The next time you pass Mothercare, go in and by a shampoo hat. That's what I'll be telling my brain this weekend. My little man hates getting shampoo and water in his eyes, and has done for the last year and a half. I've just trucked on pouring the shampoo over his eyes and grabbing a towel to wipe it away. Tonight's shouts of 'Daddy I can't see' were the straw that broke the camel's back. I've gotta help him. It must be in his genes as I used to hate having my hair washed.
We didn't exactly start off well. Harry wanted to see Sally race off with Lightning McQueen at the end of Cars, but I always put a strict 15 minute rule on how much TV he watches at the end of each day. He was whimpering and begging me to let him see Sally. Cruel daddy stuck to his guns. For a better bathtime I should have just put the TV back on.
Fast forward to bathtime and a little man who didn't want to get in, but in he went eventually. A quick soap down with some Johnson's baby lavender wash and a terrible shampooing session and we were back out. Hot-tempered daddy stopped being angry, wrapped Harry in his towel and kissed and cuddled him until we were friends again.
Storytime and singing time, part of our nightly bedtime routine, were a lot better. Bev picked up a book of fairy tales the other day and Harry loves the Little Mermaid and The Frog Prince. Tuesday saw them read twice. But we moved on to Sleeping Beauty and Three Litte Pigs tonight. He's even got into making a house out of cushions in the living room while daddy/mummy/nanny/grandad pretend to play the Big Bad Wolf.
I love you little man. Sorry about bathtime. x
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