Bath Time In My House Is Basically A Scene Out Of A Horror Movie

Good gosh. Anyone walking by outside my house right now would swear there are children inside being caned with bamboo rods.

One might think an animal in the house is dying a tortuous death, and screeching in an agonizing deathly howl.

Those outside would probably think we are tyrants who specialize in torment by acid.

It’s bath time, which is like torture time to our kids.

We only have two children, but it feels like we have eight during this dreaded time. There is screaming and yelling, there is crying and running to get away.

There is arguing in loud, piercing voices “I had to go first LAST time!!” Then, there is verbal warfare about who is deemed the unlucky one who will go first this time.

It is like we are trying to wash cats. Actually, now that I think about it, cats might be more cooperative.

The kids grab the corners of walls, while we try to carry them to the tub. They magically become gymnasts, capable of splits across the cavernous porcelain expanse when we try to place them in the tub.

When we try to get them undressed and ready for the tub, these kids are suddenly unable to use their now seemingly lifeless limbs that are dangling at their sides, unable to remove their clothing.

It’s just water. It’s clean, it’s clear, it’s refreshing, but my son swears there are microscopic ants that need to be removed from the six inches of clear fluid contained in this perfectly pristine basin of bathing.

He then screams and cries that the tepid, bordering on cool, “lava water” is burning his delicate skin, and refuses to breach the top of the fluid crust.

My daughter is nine. NINE. You’d think she was two years old, the way she carries on.

Once we ACTUALLY get her in the tub, she complains that the water is too cold — after we just watched her cry for ten minutes because the water was too hot to dip her precious toes in.

Once we have her settled with the right water temperature, she is good to wash herself, THANK GOD!!

BUT, then comes hair washing time. God help us all.

She refuses to dunk her head back in the water, she might slip and go all the way under the water. She refuses to use a cup to pour water over her head, because she might get it in her delicate eyes. She won’t get a shower, because — well — water. You’d think we are asking her to get in a waterfall.

So, one of us has to carefully pour the water over her head, whilst she holds a dry rag over her eyes. Heaven forbid ANY of this water drips on her face. She thinks she’s drowning, and we have freak out central.

Whew! Once the cleaning and washing is done, I think we are in the clear.

OH, nay-nay.

I think we are good to get them out and comfortably dried off. Nope! Now they cry, because they didn’t have time to play with bath toys.

Once we FINALLY get them out of the tub, they cry because it’s too cold, or the towel isn’t soft enough, or — I don’t know — the light is too bright.

But we did it. We are done … until next time.

I know bath time is just my kids’ “thing.” There are kids that are fine with baths, but something else simply sets them off. For my kids, it’s a scary basin of clean water.