Bea is on the loose and proving to be just as challenging as her brother. Perhaps moreso as she looks all cute and sweet and innocent, but she is sneaky, very fast and up to no good. She’s trouble and as she’s such a darling I overlook this often.
A few nights ago bubble bathtime at Applegate had just come to a close and both small children were well scrubbed, fresh smelling and squeaky clean. I’d played shark, and boat, squirt the fish, and “water stays IN the bath please Sam!”. Sam had played grab all the toys Bea wants to play with and snatch them away from his sister if she had the audacity to get to them first, and Bea had had another consternating bath time yoyo-ing between happy joy at the simple pleasure of splashing water with her tootsies and then having to back away from Sam as fast as possible. Not so easy when big brother is three times your size and you are immersed up to your waist in water.
Both children had been wrapped up all snug in towels and held up high for smiles and grins at the friends in the mirror. In Sam’s case he gets “wrapped up tight like a little green kitty cat!” and your guess is as good as mine on that one. Big snuggles were given and I soaked up in love drying them off. Dressed ready for bed Bea was then allowed to go and play in the front room with Daddy while I chased Sam the fast crazy dinosaur around his bedroom trying to persuade him that dinosaurs should wear pyjamas so they don’t get cold.
We read some bedtime stories together and to Bagpuss, multiple times, then after wishing my son “goodnight, sweet dreams” I headed to the bedroom to get changed for my night time run. Entering the room I heard a splashing coming from the bathroom. The door to the bathrooms had been left open. My heart fell through the floor when I realised Bea must have wandered in and I was trying to remember if we’d drained the tub or not. The tub stopper is having problems at the moment you see. It likes to flip back and plug shut again unless you hang a monkey wash sponge on it to weigh the lever down. Bea adores the bath and when in the bathroom will always, always attempt to climb into the bath herself. She almost falls head over heels in her efforts. I really have to watch her. So, I was absolutely imagining the nightmare scenario to match the splashing sounds was Bea flailing in the undrained bathwater on her own.
I pegged it into the bathroom and was confronted with nothing. Not a soul. The bath was empty, no Bea to be seen.
But I could still hear mystery splashing.
Frantically on the hunt I yanked open the door to the small half bathroom and was confronted with a different story.
There was my clean and perfect darling angel child, my pure and lovely Bea, cackling and happily giggling to herself as she frenziedly dipped one of Sam’s plastic cups down into the toilet bowl, filled it right up and sucked on down the contents, dribbling it all down her front.