The Baby Bath

Now that my daughter weighs more than 25 pounds, I can't wash her hands the way I always have without making her uncomfortable. I'd lift her up so that her hands could reach the faucet, but because I'm working the faucet at the same time, quite often, her belly winds up getting squished against the sink.

So I bought her a stepstool last weekend, and from the moment I put it in the shopping cart, she's been calling it a "baby bath."

Overnight Wednesday, she woke up about 3 a.m. and could not go back to sleep. I took her to the living room, hoping watching overnight news might do the trick. At first it seemed to, but then she spied her stepstool a few feet away.

She hopped off my lap, picked up the stool, turned it over and said, "Baby bath ... baby bath," again. I just smiled. "Where did baby go?" She asked.

"I don't know," I said.

When she started calling the step a "baby bath" again the next day, I got one of her baby dolls and a washcloth for her to put in there. She pretended to give the doll a bath, then turn the "baby bath" into a crib. "Shhhh," she told me. "Baby's sleeping."

Hand-washing time goes a lot better for her now. The stepstool gives her enough of a lift that I can take the water the rest of the way to her hands. I'm sure, though, that she thinks it's just a happy coincidence that her "baby bath" can help her reach the sink, too.

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