Those dang dogs

Ladybug loves taking baths.

I mean luuuuuuuuvs.

She’ll follow me into the bathroom, throw her toys into the tub and point.

You can see it on her face: “Look, Mommy! My toys are in the tub and I want to be there too!”

But for the last couple of weeks, my mother-in-law has been visiting. She’s staying in the room with the adjoining bathroom where Ladybug usually takes her baths. That means Ladybug has been relegated to the shower stall in our master bathroom.

Have you ever tried to give a wet, soapy toddler a shower? Let’s just say it’s kind of like handling an oiled turkey.

Anyway, Ladybug hasn’t enjoyed the experience that much either and usually ends up crying before I’ve finished wiping the shampoo out of her hair. (Yeah, you read that right. Wiping. She’s afraid of the showerhead.)

So to make up for the misery she’s endured, we bought an inflatable pool over the weekend. It’s long enough that all of us can get in but only about a foot deep.

The first time we used it, Ladybug went wild. Bath toys were flying, arms were flapping, giggles were contagious. She wore herself out splashing around.

We planned to let her play again the next night, but when my husband went out to check the water level, the neighbor came to greet him.

“I’m really sorry. I couldn’t stop him in time,” the neighbor said.

“Him” being a dog. A really big, hot, thirsty dog. The water inside the pool was one huge muddy mess.

It takes hours for the water to drain out of the tiny plug in the bottom of the pool, so we weren’t able to get it cleaned before Ladybug’s bedtime. So I apologetically packed up Ladybug’s bath toys, put away her bathing suit and towel, and pulled out the cleaning supplies.

And to make up for the misery we endured, she skipped bath time.