Bathtime and Wedgies
It’s a sunday night and both kids needed bathing before bed. They weren’t particularly stinky, it’s just for the sake of respectability on a Monday morning really. Having said that, they really did need cleaning up because Darlek has been facepainting again. Sausage’s entire face was a mixture of green and blue.
So bathtime began. Horace helped, if you can call it helping. He had hold of one of Darlek’s Xmas presents which was one of those long handled grabby pincer things. I’ve seen people picking up litter with similar things, if you’re wondering what they look like. As I shampoed Darlek’s hair Horace dutifully ambled around the bathroom picking up bits of washing and carrying them out with them firmly held between the grabby pincers at arms length, as you would if you were carrying radioactive waste I should imagine. He helpfully tried to massage the conditioner into Darlek’s hair too, with the grabby thing, which just kind of nudged her hair about. Darlek dutifully sat there with her eyes closed for fear of getting conditioner in them, and was completely unaware of the novel method. Horace, in his far distant past, was a hairdresser. I suspect I now know why they made him redundant.
As usual I’m the spoilsport, so spent a while muttering at him to stop it. This probably made matters worse, as he then attempted to give me a wedgy with the grabby thing as I lent over the bath trying to wash Sausage’s Incredible Hulk face away. The kids thought this was wonderful, and proceeded to instruct Horace in the art of further harassing mummy. I had to stand there while he picked up towels with the grabby thing and drop them on my head, so I looked like a pink towelling ghost. Unable to defend myself for fear of being wedgied again, I tolerated the horseplay and eventually finished bathing the two of them.
Almost all the way through this scenario Darlek loudly and erm…tunefully, sang a version of ‘Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem Dry Bones’ which went something like this ‘The foot bone’s connected to the leg bone, the leg bone’s connected to the knee bone, the knee bone’s connected to daddy, the daddy’s connected to the Sausage (erm son’s name, not dinner or anything), the Sausage’s connected to the Mummy, the Mummy’s connected to the Spider Man, the Spider Man’s connected to the wee-wee!’ (almost exact transcript) and other versions of. This gem of a song was sung at volume, whilst Sausage sat there giggling and joining in ocassionally. Thankfully the singing distracted him from his usual bath water drinking antics.
To be absolutely honest I was a bit annoyed and just wanted the kids bathed and in bed, and being wedgied and teased beyond the realms of Mother Teresa’s patience, drove me a little crazy. Now they’re tucked up in dreamland, and it’s all quiet and all I can hear is the click of the keys on the keyboard, I actually wish I’d been a bit less of a mardy moo. I still deserve some revenge though. Horace is tidying the kitchen after tea now, I think I might go grab the grabby thing and make a nuisance of myself. Let’s see how good he is at washing up whilst being wedgied.