Bath Toy Destruction

Don’t worry… I promise you this isn’t another post about B pooping in the tub. But it seems bath time got the best of me again.

Before B was born, Sakya and I had separate bathrooms. She used the master bath and I was sent packing to the guest bath. This was fine with me. I was able to accomplish all the manly things that needed to be done. Manscaping, washing of masculine areas and most importantly deep thinking was done in my own private realm of  peace and tranquility. Baby comes along and the serenity and harmony of my man-room was invaded like the beaches of Normandy.

Toys. A lot of toys. Toys in drawers, toys on floors, toys in closets and most importantly toys in the bathtub. If you were to glance into my tub it looks like that cast from Fantasia and Mr. Hooper’s Store had a mass suicide attempt. Mickey, Donald, Elmo and Cookie Monster are face down in a shallow pool of baby body wash and tearless shampoo.

B’s favorite toy, however, is a Weeble Wobble duck that floats and stays upright at all times. B unleashes Poseidon’s fury on this thing. Plenty of splashing, buckets of water, and an extra loofah have all been incorporated into sinking this toy without luck. It will just not sink or tip over, much to the delight of B. How ironic.

Skip to an hour after B gets out of the bath. Its finally my turn to take a shower. I tiptoe into the shower like I’m avoiding a minefield at Guantanamo Bay, I kick Goofy to the side, hang the Big Bird wash cloth on the bar and get down to business. There’s veritable who’s who of Nickelodeon characters surrounding my feet.  I wash essential body parts, shave my face, possibly sing a song on two and start to wash my hair. Obviously any grown man shampoo has been removed from my shower so I am left scrubbing away with Kermit Foaming body gel and Johnson’ s and Johnson’s Sensitive Scalp Shampoo. I normally leave the shower smelling like a mixture of Hello Kitty and Teddy Rumpskin.

Eyes closed tight and washing away, the unsinkable duck makes in appearance. I step forward to wash the soap from my hair, bump into the bubble making machine, step on the Weeble Wobble duck and:

I have opened up negotiations with Sakya for master bath time. Main bargaining chips include the Caillou Bath Crayons and the Sponge-Bob Submarine®.

I DO NOT have the X Factor

Quick back-story:

1.) I am a horrible singer

2.) I like to sing

3.) I do not sing in public…. Ever

4.) I like Disney movies

5.) Consequently I like Disney Movie soundtracks

Now that the formalities are out of the way, here’s a quick insight into the life of gridlock with a toddler.

Occasionally I will pick B up from the babysitter. Usually Sakya picks him up, but every now and then dad and tiny human get to roll together.  For the most part B occupies himself in the backseat. Checks out the surroundings, kicks his feet or babbles on our 15 minute drive home. In case you didn’t know, toddlers have the attention span of a pre-schooler with fun-dip and a Barney episode. So of course a traffic jam is the worst possible senario.

Gridlock. I’m talking like 10 car pile up, bio-hazardous material spilled on the highway, OJ Simpson car chase gridlock. Not moving. After 10 minutes of not moving B is getting antsy. At first there are little whimpers, followed by whining, followed by screams that sound like a 12 year old who hugged Justin Bieber and is never bathing again. This is not good.

Two things calm B down pretty quickly, The freaking Wiggles (see earlier post) and singing. Since I’m all out of Jeff, Murray and the rest of the merry gang, I throw on some Disney tunes on Pandora and begin to rock out. This worked for about 2 1/2 minutes.

I try the singing without really moving my mouth; not working. I try singing every 10 or so words; not working. I check my surroundings and start belting out Bear Necessities ; of course, this works.

At this point I’m getting into it. I mean The Circle of Life comes on and you have to do the opening African chant, right? B is laughing hysterically, I completely forget that we are stuck in traffic and my favorite Disney song Never Had a Friend Like Me comes on.

I am dancing, singing, doing my best Robin Williams impersonation and I look out my window. 5 teenage boys are filming me with iPhones and getting more enjoyment out of me signing than B. I look at them. Flip them off and continue signing. Wait till you have kids you little shits. You’ll be signing Hakuna Matata and it won’t be nearly as good.

Also I believe me singing is somewhere on youtube, but I have yet to find it. If you do, let me know.