Until recently, I was giving her baths in the “big tub” – yes, it’s a sign of parenthood when you refer to things from the perspective of your child – but she sat inside a laundry basket inside the big tub. It was perfect, since it was full of holes; it provided a smaller space with which to confine a wobbly little girl. But wobbly she is no longer, and she’s been upgraded to Big Girl Bathtub status.
Given her newfound freedom – the tub is roughly 1.5 hojillion (yes, that’s right) times bigger than she is – she can be a little crazy. But I’m always right there, and she hasn’t once slipped. She loves the idea of being a big girl in a big girl’s tub. As she was playing tonight, she turned to me and said “Haha! I got to show you someting!” (That’s not a typo, that’s exactly what she said.) She held up her washcloth, but then looked at it, somewhat disappointed. It was bunched up. “Haha, can you help me?”
“Sure thing,” I said, straightened it out for her, and handed it back.
She held it up, draping it across her shoulders. “Look, Haha! Look at my dress!” The washcloth was like a dress, seeing as it covered her from shoulders to knees. “Look! Aren’t I pretty?”
I agreed. “Yes, you are indeed pretty.” No matter how big and independent she gets, she’ll always be my little love.