I think Will and I have reached a new threshold of desperation. To recap for those of you not keeping up, due to extreme drain terror our daughter has not willingly taken a bath in the tub for going on 4 weeks. Showers are also unacceptable. Anything with a drain is evil. I can only be grateful that sinks are ok for tooth-brushing and hand-washing, although there have been a few minor skirmishes about that.
The pediatrician and her occupational therapist all seem to agree that while this seems
stupid irrational to us, to her it’s a very real fear. Since she’s visual, everyone is suggesting visual approaches: getting her in the tub (or toys) when there’s no water or videoing her brother/us NOT going down the drain. As this is all a bit logistically problematic when flying solo in the evenings, I decided to compose another one of my silly little books on the topic of mermaids and the joy of the bath.
I had Will take some pictures yesterday morning when the house was empty. Stella would flip her lid if she had seen her darling mermaids in the tub of terror with water in it. I did another photo session this morning, for supplemental material. Unlike my previous literary efforts, I quickly gave up trying to rhyme. There’s only so much that rhymes with drain (strain, rain, pain), tub (grub), dirt (hurt), or bath (wrath).
And now it’s done, 3 hours later. I feel a bit silly and a little bit dirty after looking at doll pictures for so long. (We had photo shoots with Barbies/mermaids, for crying out loud. ) I will spare you all the text, but you can imagine the sorts of thing you’d say if you were trying to convince your otherwise brilliant 3 ½ year old that they will not, in fact, go down the drain like Nemo. To hell with Nemo. Nemo is banned forever.
Once again, surely this too shall pass. I don’t know how many more wading pool half-ass baths I can handle in the scorching heat. No one wants a stinky mermaid. No one wants a stinky mommy.
Where do kids get this shit?!