One day Madeline loves grilled cheese more than anything under the sun. The next time I give her grilled cheese? Onto the floor it goes! One day Madeline is petrified of the squirrels in our yard. The next day? All she wants to do is stare out the window at the squirrels in our yard.
Madeline, like all babies, goes through phases at lightning speed. Most of her phases are nothing to cause alarm. On the other hand, phases where she won't sleep unless it's on top of Mumma, or she develops a phobia of a family member, are more problematic. Those are the phases that can sometimes (only sometimes) drive her parents bananas.
Madeline's current phase? Well, for mysterious reasons that only make sense in the mind of a Maddie Bear, she has suddenly become terrified of bath time.
It happened right around Christmas. Madeline, who had always loved taking a "tubba," decided to scream bloody murder whenever we even mentioned the word.
Maybe it's due to the fact that I recently brought her in the shower with me when she was in desperate need of a quick wash. (Those stretch marks horrify me too, Maddie Bear. You don't have to tell me.)
Whatever the reason, Madeline decided bathing was for the birds.
This left us two options: Option one, a hysterical baby right before bedtime. (Not a great option.) Option two, a very dirty baby. (Also, not a great option.)
Therefore, we've been slowly working on a solution to our problem. Operation get Madeline in the Tubba!
My first step was to take her baby whale tub and place it on the bathroom floor for her bath instead of actually putting her in the bathtub. My theory was that she was not actually scared of baths, but instead scared of the shower. Step one was not successful. She still screamed and cried and turned red and tried to stand up in her slippery whale tub.
That's when I introduced the second step: distract Madeline with Elmo. I bought her some bubbles with a picture of Elmo on the bottle. When she started screaming, I let her hold the bottle. Elmo helped calm her down a bit. She sadly sobbed, "Elmo" while gazing at the bottle with her bottom lip pouted out. Progress.
Step three, naturally, was bubbles. Madeline loves bubbles. (Um, who doesn't love bubbles?) Yet, we had never used bubbles in Madeline's baths before. It was time. When Madeline saw the sudsy water, she formed a weak smile and consented to letting me shampoo her hair. Progress.
The final step was the most effective. Splashing. I gently splashed the bubbly water, and Madeline imitated me. What ensued was a Biblical flood of our bathroom. Remember step one when we removed the whale tub from the actual bathtub? Mistake. Water, water everywhere!
Madeline thought it was hysterical. I must admit, I thought it was hysterical. Did Dada find it hysterical? Not so much. Still, he cleaned up our mess without complaining while I dried Madeline and myself off. Good man.
All in all, operation Get Maddie in the Tubba went pretty well.
Last night, we put the operation into effect again. She shook her head violently when we told her it was bath time. She clung to my shirt pitifully when she realized I was about to put her in the bathtub. When I put her in the water, she howled hysterically for about thirty seconds. Then she saw Elmo and her bubbles and calmed herself down. She distracted herself with some toys while I washed her hair. And this time I skipped step one, so there was no mess when she started splashing like a wild woman again.
Thankfully, I think this phase is well on its way out.
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