I do not enjoy bath time. Wait, let me clarify. My own bath time, yes. That I do enjoy. Bath time for the girls, however, is not one of my favorite jobs as a part of this whole motherhood gig. Last night I was feeling particularly not-in-love with this part of the girls' bedtime routine. I was also feeling a bit run down - sleepy and just totally over the lingering congestion that I've had since late last week. These two do not make for a great combination. Take this and then consider that it took three requests before the girls begrudingly exited the tub, two times too many from my point of view given my frame of mind. With my tolerance threshold at its very lowest and the girls being excessively silly, I let unleashed Psycho Mom* a bit.
Me: Punkin, enough! I asked you to get out of the tub. Now, OUT!
Punkin finally exits tub and begins dancing around naked
Me: (as I'm brushing Shortcake's hair) Punkin, please sit here until I'm ready for you.
Punkin spends the next three minutes singing - and I use that term very, very loosely in this instance - made up songs, getting in my and Shortcake's faces, and just generally doing anything she can to annoy me further.
Me: Punkin! Sit down and ZIP IT!
Punkin: (looking down at her unclothed body) But I don't have a zipuh.
Touche, Punkin. Touche.
*The only thing that kept me from total Psycho Mom status is that I had warmed the girls' bath towels in the dryer while they were bathing so that they would be toasty warm after getting out of the water. I'm a little crabby sometimes, but I'm not pure evil.