Bad Hair Day

Little bear HATES baths. He hates them with passion and in detail, but the absolute worst bit is when his hair gets wet. It takes two of us to bath him, he fights for dear life and is absolutely piteous.

So when I needed to take a bottle of shampoo upstairs I told little bear that it was to wash his hair, thinking that would make it safe, and went out to shift the tubs with the tomato plants for the washer dryer delivery tomorrow. Dear heart has already disconnected the soon to be removed washer dryer before he went out.

Looking back, it was a mistake.

I was checking with Mr Nice Next Door, who knows these things, whether the washer dryer would be alright. Little bear was in the living room, and I could faintly hear the tv in the room he was in. Then little bear appeared at the window and me and Mr Nice Next Door looked. "I wonder what he has got in his hair." I said. "I'd go in now if I were you," he said and I sprinted inside, knowing that little bear is capable of anything.

Yes, he had tipped adult shampoo all over the front of his hair.

Well, I dragged him upstairs and I started to use a flannel to wash and wipe the hair, working backwards to keep the gunk away from his eyes. 'Look at all the bubbles!' I said rather manically, trying to distract him. It wasn't working and he was not a happy little bear.

So I put the shower on. Little bear has strenuously and vehemently objected to baths, but I thought I might have a chance with the shower. I got it to a nice temperature, let him feel the water, got him undressed to his goosebumps...

No, he was not having it, he was not tolerating it, it was not right, mother! He was scrambling desperately out of the bath (shower over bath arrangement) and so I let him out. He picked up the nappy I had just removed (no solids, thank goodness) and pushed it into my hand. "Back!" he said urgently. "Trousers!" Then without any further pause he put on his boops.

I wish I could express the picture of a miserable, slightly soggy, frothy haired (not got all the gunk out) little bear, stumping miserably into his room wearing nothing but a pair of welly boots and an unhappy expression. He went straight to his changing mat with an air of purpose and insisted, "Trousers!"

He is now drifting happily off to sleep after a comforting bottle and a good sing from mum. Tomorrow, when there are two of us, he is going to be bathed and no mercy. I may need reinforcements.