Baby and the bathwater

It was the moment I’d been dreading.
Li’l Fatty had found it.
Every morning in the bath, he’d glance about as if trying to remember something, then suddenly look down and grab it.
He’d laugh or frown as he pulled at it, depending on his mood.
Then he’d pop it in his mouth.
Ok, don’t be disturbed, I’m not talking about his doodle (he made that discovery long ago).
I’m talking about the bath plug.
Every morning, sometimes 10 minutes, other times 10 seconds after he’s in, out comes the plug.
It doesn’t matter how many bubbles I create to hide it, or how many toys I try to distract him with.
Forget the pirate bath with the spraying cannons.
The bright red Elmo jug or the colourful array of rubber duckies.
He just wants the plug.
The plain little white round plug.
Sometimes we play ‘See How Many Times I Can Get Mummy To Put It Back In’.
Other times he’s out the moment IT’S out.
Like I can teach an 11-month-old a lesson.
The plug is of course not the only everyday household item he’s obsessed with.
There are electrical sockets.
Wherever you go in our house, you’ll see the two red eyes of switched on power points.
Barely in sight, they don’t emit music, radiate light, or do anything entertaining.
They’re just plain old lethal power points.
Drawers are another one.
You can pull them out with one hand, then push them closed with your other hand still inside.
Cupboards are great for whacking yourself repeatedly in the head.
And blinds are a fantastic alternative to clothing.
The attraction of babies to the seemingly mundane is also true of TV.
Li’l Fatty won’t raise an eye to Thomas the Tank Engine but everything stops when Harvey Norman is advertising cheap lounges.
And Fireman Sam has nothing on CLR.
Or Jackson’s Security.
In many ways, babies are simple creatures.
You can have the brightest, loudest, funniest, sweetest, most outrageous toys.
But at the end of the day, Mummy’s drink bottle will dominate.
The lesson here: enjoy your little one while he’s still obsessed with the simple things.
Because one day he WILL want Thomas the Tank Engine.
In his toy box.
And on TV.
All day.
Every day.
The plug will be a distant memory.
For you, that is.
It won’t even be that much for him.


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