Bath time at the O'Neill house. Some love it. Some hate it. Some love it and hate it in the same night.
Camille loves it.
Liv loves to hate it and then loves it so much she hates it when it's over. This girl keeps us on our toes. And my ability to out-wit her is shrinking exponentially every day.
Liv used to love bath time endlessly. She would love to get in and stay in and hate to get out. Her feelings were consistently consistent---love, love, love it all of the time. Now, every time a bath is even mentioned, her favorite line is, "No, mama, I no take baths anymore." And she drives the point home. Several times. And sometimes it takes bribery just to get her de-stinkified.
Tonight the bribery, or as I like to call it, creative thinking, happened to be in the form of bubbles. Not a bubblebath, mind you, but the prospect of actually being able to blow bubbles while inside the house in the tub. She had wanted to blow bubbles outside all night, but the sky was aghast and it was so humid that I doubt one would be able to lauch a bubble into the air....so.....wha-la! A gateway to bathtime without a struggle. An offer she couldn't refuse: the chance to blow bubbles inside.
It went off without a hitch. She was thrilled with the idea and greedily ran off to the tub, bubbles in hand. No matter that moments into scrub-a-dub-dubbing, she happily dumped the entire bottle of bubbles into her bathwater. Now, she had the perfect container to fill with water and dump, dump, dump....on the floor, on the edge of the tub, on the towels.... Okay, so there were a few hitches.
But just look at this picture. Pure delight. Note the headband around the neck that just had to be bathed in. This girl oozes style.
The exclamation point to the entire experience was when I walked in to check on her and she looked at me, flashed a grin and said, "Mama, I'm berry glad you're eere!"
Me, too, Liv. Me, too.
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