The evening events left me questioning my once toddler-proof ability to multi-task.
That skill is apparently a little rusty these days, causing me to be off my game. It is quite possible, also, that I had a memory lapse of just how fleeting a two year old’s attention span can be. Whatever the reason, the outcome somewhat resembled a three-ring circus and concluded with a bleach spot on the bathroom rug and water in places it should not have been.
Add to that, of course, a flustered Nana, Bo the dog that just wanted out of the situation, and a little red-headed toddler that hardly broke stride.
It started when, for some reason that defies logic now, I imagined that grandson, Canyon, and I could have a fun time together bathing the dog. It was a cold, wintery evening, so the task would have to be done indoors. In hindsight, I should have thought twice.
It started out just fine.Canyon was delighted to see Bo in the bathtub and stood by watching for a whole minute or two. Then his attention waned, and he decided it was time to move on to something else.
I realized quickly I was in a fix. I had a dog that would likely bolt if turned loose, and a little boy couldn’t be allowed to roam the house unattended. Without leaving the tub, I attempted to coax the busy toddler back to the dog bath with promises that he could wash Bo’s face. This served as a temporary fix. I handed Canyon a washcloth and Bo, who was clearly not amused, patiently complied.
This entertained the boy for another 15 seconds before he turned his attention elsewhere. I continued scrubbing my furry pet, now with more urgency to finish the job as quickly as possible. I glanced back at Canyon just in time to see him holding the spray bottle of bleach cleaner I had placed on the sink for use on the tub following the dog’s bath. I saw his little fingers pulling the trigger while holding the nozzle just a couple of inches from the gold bathroom rug. I lunged toward him, trying to stop him in time to avoid the small disaster.
He was just out of reach and, in that moment, I had to turn away from the dog to get to the kid. I hastily dropped the hand-held shower nozzle and warned the dog to “stay,” which he did, thankfully. When I turned back to tub, the dropped nozzle was spraying like a fountain across the bathroom. It caught me in square in the face when I leaned down to shut off the water.
Just then I heard “Poppy” entering the back door. I picked up the toddler and with water still dripping from my face and hair, deposited him at his grandpa’s feet.
“Tag, you’re it,” I said to him with no further explanation.
I will think twice next time I get a fun idea.
Annette Rowe is a freelance writer from rural Gentry and a speech-language pathologist at Siloam Springs High School. She may be reached by email at [email protected].
Opinion, Pages 6 on 03/13/2013