It's about time I start blogging some of this stuff, for all posterity. That and because I know there's family out there who want to know what's going on!
The Battle Over Bathtime started some weeks ago. Since we moved to the new place, overnight baby girl started to LOVE taking a bath (a complete reversal of her personal opinion on the matter!) She loves to play in the water, and get clean, and play, and play some more. She has a nice selection of age appropriate toys in a convenient little toy-holder suctioned to the tile.
She loves the bath SO much.... she started asking for them. A Lot.
Then, when refused a second or possibly a third bath in a single day, she started protesting. Her protests escalated, and currently resemble something out of a PETA demonstration in front of Georgetown storefronts with the addition of some whining and pity-me-cries.
Nowadays, it starts early in the morning with a casual slip of the word "Bath!" followed by a happy stroll over to the bathroom and 30 seconds of silence. During this period, she's stripping down, diaper and all. Then she stands in front of the bathroom door lamenting "Bath! Bath" and grabbing at the door handle. If she can't get her clothes off (i.e. if the sleeves of her shirt confound her) then she just starts whining and complaining for help to get naked -- THEN she runs to the bathroom and demands an audience with the big chrome faucet. For this reason, I now keep the bathroom door closed nearly all the time, despite having babyproofed the space so that she can go in and enjoy two of her other favorite activities: Combing her hair and "brushing" her teeth.
We have never, that I remember, fully given in as soon as she starts feeling entitled and strutting about naked. On those mornings when I've planned to give her a bath, I'll wait until she asks politely (before the gloves - er, the clothes - come off) and then treat her to it. If a bath is not forthcoming, however, I calmly let her know, ask her to put her diaper back on, and give her a time-out warning.
Over the Past Week, the Introduction of Time Out has gone quite well! Gigi, Daddy and myself are very consistent in our approach to it and to baby. Super Nanny would be proud. As our tweeny-toddler starts testing her boundaries, we've started setting them. For example, if she thows her toys inappropriately, we say "No," explain that we don't do that, and ask her to stop. If she does it again, we reiterate the rule and give her a warning that she's going into Time Out if she does it again. When she breaks the rule, we say "OK, you're in Time Out!" and immediately pick her up and put her in the corner, so that she associates Time Out with the undesired behavior. The first couple days, she was only in the corner for about 30 seconds or so, perhaps less. She is only 21 months old after all.
Within 3 days, she's completely learned the concept of "Time Out" and learned how to stay in the corner until we say she's free to go. Yesterday there was a ground-breaking moment when she threw a toy, Daddy asked her to stop, she threw it again, and I gave her the warning. The expression her face melted from coy "make me!" laughter to dawning recognition and shock. Her mouth fell open, I could see the sincere apology in her eyes, and she went and put herself in Time Out. Three days in! Three days and she's putting herself in Time Out!
Baby Goes To War
I managed to stall baby girl's bathtime requests this morning by telling her she'd get one soon and by giving her Time Out a time or two (as appropriate). While standing up and whimpering in the corner, she let me put her diaper back on her and stopped fussing. I finished a couple chores and my massive cup of coffee before treating her to some quality time in the tub with her toys -- on my schedule.
After her afternoon nap, she started up again. I told her no, I already gave her a bath today. I ended up having to put her in Time Out in her crib until she let me put her diaper on her; I am not amenable to babies peeing anywhere they want on the floor. After a few minutes it clicked with her, she let me redress her and we went about our normal business, reading books and watching the torrential rains outside the patio window together.
Around 5:30PM she took her clothes and diaper off and had a little meltdown outside the bathroom. I put her in Time Out and tried to put her diaper back on her. She refused. She ABSOLUTELY refused! So I put her in the crib, sat down and calmly explained, once again, that as long as she refuses to wear her diaper, she can't walk around the house. I held up her diaper and motioned to the changing pad so that there was no misunderstanding. She cried, she pleaded, she yelled "Baby, baby!" (a plea for cuddles). However, each time I went back in her room, sat down and asked her again, holding up the clean diaper, she'd look at it and sob "N-noooo!".
"OK, see you in a few minutes," I'd calmly say and leave the room.
The Battle over Bathtime had definitely become a war! Pee splashed down on my toes as she begged me to release her from the prison of her crib. And still she refused her diaper! It took an hour and two pees in the bed for her to settle down and consent to put the diaper back on.
I did not pull her out of her soiled crib. I did not give her a bath. I was very firm about this, as was Daddy and Gigi, both of whom she called to for help. All three of us were consistent and firm in this. While some might see it as cruel, I see it as essential. Because to give her a bath tonight would be to teach her that all she has to do is take off her diaper and pee. There's no way I'm going to let that happen!
The last time I went in and spoke with her about it, she expressed remorse but still refused the diaper. I calmly explained the entire situation one more time; she must wear a diaper or stay in her crib. I held up the diaper one last time, which was the first time she didn't cry "NO!" at the mere mention of it. I consider that a victory. As I picked her up and placed her on the changing pad, I carefully observed her body language. She didn't fight my putting the diaper on her in the least. She even lifted her feet for me to put her capris back on. The war over, and facing defeat...
...she immediately morphed into a happy, playful little girl not one bit concerned with her diaper, her pee or bathtime.
We've had a lovely evening ever since! =D
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