Parental intuition is a gift, let me tell you what. Sometimes you know just what will solve your little one’s problems just as well as you know your own name, but also know that convincing the small one you know what’s best can be a feat unto itself. The other day, Harper was snoozing the afternoon away and her nap was bleeding into a time that was later than advisable, that is if we want bedtime to stay as it should (and we do). So there was nothing else I could do but wake her up.
I opened her door, slowly — she doesn’t like sudden movements — and sat on the floor next to her crib (submit, as Tex likes to say). The teeny girl was out cold, face down on Elmo, pillow flung to the other end of the bed, tangled in her quilt. I peeled her out of bed, and as was her right, she was not thrilled with having been woken up.
Since we’ve been potty training, I’m all business when I get her out of bed. No time to waste from getting our sleep diaps off and Peppas back on, in order not to confuse the two. But I could see she was not ready for all this commotion — I mean, she really was out cold — and I knew splashing in some water would do the trick.
So instead, I say. “Harper, do you want to take a bath?”
“What about a bubble bath?”
“In Mama’s tub with bubbles up to your ears?”
“Okay.” (there is a noticeable flicker in her eyes here)
Anyone who’s anyone knows the best bubbles are made with plain ol’ dish soap, so I added a bit to the water and we watched as the bubbles grew and grew until my gloriously 80s spa tub was filled to the brim. Harper couldn’t believe her eyes. We made Santa beards, angel wings, tried to see just how high we could pile the bubbles, and it was all I could do to get her out of the tub once Grammy and Nana showed up to visit.
Once I got her out of the tub, she kept racing back into the bathroom to snag another handful of bubbles, thinking she could take them with her out into “the house” (aka the family room). I finally convinced her to leave them be, thinking she’d forget all about them and be onto the next thing. But lo, the next morning she woke up, ran to the bathroom and nearly shouted, “Where’d the bubbles go, mom?!”
I better stock up on dish soap.