Saturday, February 25, 2012

Temporary Tattoos.

As I type this, my child is in the bathtub.  I am sitting in the hallway, watching him play with a bath toy.  I told him he needed to stay in the tub 5 more minutes or he would get a toy taken away.  And he needed to stop crying and screaming and knock off his general tantrumry.  He has stopped.  My eye is still twitching and I can still feel my heart beating in my temple.

Last week, he was sporting a dinosaur temporary tattoo that he one as a prize for knowing how many stars and stripes were on the American flag.  I'm not a fan of these things.  But I applied it anyway since it was something he proudly earned.  No sooner did that tattoo dry did that child start complaining he was worried it would come off.  Every hand washing, every shower, every time I looked at the stupid thing he started whining that the tattoo would wear away.

It finally did come off and it was no big deal.  I guess he got all the crying out of his system.  Then this morning he appeared from his room with a skeleton one.  He reminded me that I had told him at Halloween that I'd put it on his hand.  Sigh.  Yeah, I did tell him that.  Then I forgot to throw it out.

So I put it on, reluctantly, but told him in no uncertain terms that I did not want to hear any complaining of worry that it would come off.  It will come off after a few days.  But he will wash his hands and he will shower and I'm not kidding that I do. not. want. to. hear. it.

Within 2 hours it started.  I gave him that "I warned you" look.  He washed his hands anyway, albeit gently.  I offered to let him play in the tub, my saving grace on a weekend afternoon that follows a weekend morning that starts way too early.  He happily agreed until he got in the water and his hand got wet.

And cue the tantrum, the drama, the tears, the hyperventilating.  I told him that if he made me waste a tub of water, it would be the last tattoo he'd ever have in his life.  He actually had to think about it!  He sat with his hand up on the edge, playing one-handed for a few minutes.  Now he's in there, splashing around like nothing happened.  He's singing away about filling cups with water and I bet if I asked him what he was crying about 10 minutes ago he'd have no idea.

I suppose such is life with a tired 5 year old.  It is 5:04 now.  He has barely stopped talking for the last 12 hours (yes, he's been up since shortly after 5am).  1 hour and 56 minutes until bedtime.  If not sooner.

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  1. Tell your kiddo there's a drought in Texas; I don't even let my kids take baths anymore -- short showers only. Enjoyed your post!

  2. We are down to this one per week, but I think it's going to be less than that really soon! Thanks for reading!