Written on 15th August 2013. When our son was 4 Months Old.
So…when I say “Bathing time Baby!” I think he hears, “Playing time Baby!” For this is how it plays out.
As you’re wiping his face, he tries to lick or maybe eat the flannel/wash cloth. You manage to prevent that from happening.
When you’ve ‘soaped’ him, he takes his hands to his mouth. You tell him, “No baby don’t eat your fingers, they have soap.” So then you try to soap the rest of his body while also trying to keep his fingers from going into that cute little mouth.
While you’re doing all this, the little man decides to pee. Imagine. Weeeeee! A little fountain, and then a smile, like he’s happy that he got to do that. You can’t help but smile back. Okay, you move him onto a different leso (cloth), thankful for the mackintosh underneath.
Now comes dipping time. He is convinced his basin is a swimming pool. So a kicking episode begins. You’re trying to support him so he doesn’t slip because at 4 months he can’t quite sit on his own. But while you’re busy doing that and trying to rinse him, he is busy trying to splash as much water as possible. Some gets on the floor. And most gets on you. You’re thinking I should start wearing a rain coat for this activity. And maybe gumboots/ Wellington boots as well. You manage to rinse him (and everything all around at this rate), then you place him on his towel. He tries to eat the towel. The kicking of legs continues.
All this with coo-ing sounds for sound effect, and the room heater in the background. By the time you’re done oiling and dressing him, you’re both ready for a drink. A milky drink. Well, mostly just milk on his part:)
You wrap him up in a shawl, hold him close, breastfeed him, and a few minutes later our little swimmer is asleep in your arms. Looking and smelling fresh and clean. Peaceful and calm. And you know you wouldn’t trade any part of the whole experience for the world. Not one single bit of it.