In the name of cleanliness with expediency and all that,
sometimes a tub full of bambini is where it's at.
Alas, this can make for choppy seas
with splishes and splashes and plenty of pleas
to keep the water in the tub.
(Remember when
tre' bambini went "rub a dub dub"?)
Now with four small(ish) sets of limbs to get clean
after
muddin' and grubbin' and
baking projects e'en,
when parents are up for the challenge at hand,
we can hastily dispense with the dirt and sand.
It's no small feat. There are bound to be some antics.
But if Mama (or Daddy) has the right playful 'tude, we can keep from growing frantic.
When billed as a "dog wash" with a tub full of yappers,
the bath magically (or not) concludes with no need for snappers.
(though sometimes there is some goofy singing
especially if the poochies' howlings have Mama's ears ringing)
Or if the bambini balk at the idea of a fresh water rinse,
the image of watering plants helps me to convince
them of the need for such a shower.
This helps bring the proceedings to a close (unless it's
happy hour).
If someone is
illin' or tensions are high,
a stand-up shower in lieu of a bath comes to mind.
At best the elder siblings can help the youngest one wash
(unless, of course, she is covered in
ganache).
To see them helping each other brings joy to my heart,
soon to be followed by a sigh when they utter the word '
f*rt'.
Still, they are bigger and every day more capable.
The elder lad is especially able
to wash and lather
(though he'd rather
conduct science experiments with shampoo and other stuff --
of such explorations he can never get enough).
My brand-new mommy self or single self (or even mother of three self) would never have guessed
that I could bathe four children at once with a modicum of success.
Things don't always go smoothly. Sometimes I am terse
when there are shennigans or tidal waves
or worse.
It can be messy, this business of getting clean,
but here's hoping before-bedtime baths lead to
sweet dreams.
If anyone's looking for a gift idea for me,
a
bath apron like this one might be just the thing.
I have already disclosed
my lack of enthusiasm for poetry,
so why is it that bath time brings out the versifier in me?
