There's soap on my brain.

This is one of those stories I'll have to delete from the blogosphere someday -- hopefully before Ean gets old enough to stumble across it and wonder why I felt compelled to share the breadth and depth of his dingbattery with all the people inside my computer.

God bless his spacey little heart.

He's a bright boy.  Really.  He's a brilliant writer, freakishly observant,  and has an uncanny ability to see things in unique and innovative ways.

Sometimes though.....sometimes he can't figure out how to take a shower.

It started as an off morning.  We overslept -- not my much, but if you know Ean, you know he likes his routines.  His routine is to wake up at 5:30 a.m. (not a typo!!) to get ready for school.  He does this so he has time in the morning to read or play some Wii.  This morning, after staying up late to finish math homework, he didn't get up until 6:15.

He scowled through breakfast, then stomped into his room and got dressed.

Then I reminded him that he had not taken a shower the night before. I gave him the option of taking a shower then, or waiting until after school. 

He slumped to the floor , looking like I'd just informed him that the dog died.

More scowling and stomping, but he made his way into the bathroom.  I heard the shower go on and, for a few hopeful minutes,  I thought we were in the clear.

"MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I *run* to the bathroom and throw back the shower curtain, prepared for large pools of blood or a, at the very least, a missing limb.

"I have SOAP in my eyes"

Are you fucking kidding me?

"So, um, rinse them?."

"I can't.  HELP MEEEE!!"

"What do you mean you CAN'T?!?"

"I can't. My hands have soap on them"

"SO RINSE YOUR HANDS!!!"

"Oh"

At this point he tries to GET OUT OF THE SHOWER!

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Going to rinse my hands.   You told me to rinse my hands"

God bless him.  He was headed for the freaking sink.

"In the SHOWER.  Rinse your hands IN THE GODDAMN SHOWER!"

"Oh.  But I can't open my eyes to see where the water is"

"Give.  Me.  Your. Hands."

I rinse off his hands FOR HIM and tell him to splash water on his eyes.  I walk out of the bathroom, planning to ask Rich if he's SURE he never dropped the baby on his head.

"MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  HELP MEEEEEE!!!"

I go BACK into the bathroom to find him naked, dripping wet, and standing on his (fresh! clean!) school clothes.  Eyes squeezed shut, shampoo suds oozing from his hair.

"I need a towel"

"Open your eyes and GET BACK IN THE SHOWER!"

"But I'm already clean."

"GET.  BACK. IN. THE SHOWER."

At this point I'm a raving lunatic and ranting about how he's NINE FREAKING YEARS OLD and should know how to TAKE A DAMN SHOWER!!  I rinse his hair for him, hand him a towel and storm out of the bathroom.

He emerges a few minutes later, wearing damp clothes.  His shirt is inside out.  He's crying and apologizing. I felt like I was one-step away from being a full-on child abuser. 

We hug, apologize, and chalk it up to a bad morning for both of us.

I walk in the door after getting everyone dropped off at school.  The phone is ringing.

"Mom.  I forgot my lunch box"

Comments

[Suzanne]

http://nerdnirvana.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/midvale-school-for-the-gifted.jpg

You are not alone. I am just thankful that the inverse is also true and that I am not alone in this either!

Thanks for the giggle!

[Paula]

I'm still laughing! Reading that put me right in your bathroom, feeling your pain! You will be a star at your writing retreat.