We had a round of ick over the weekend. Part of this included multiple pants poopings by Enzo. Fun times.
After one such incident I found it necessary to shower the poor lad. The tub needed scrubbing before I could bathe him in it, yet there he stood shivering in the buff.
He wasn't super impressed by the shower, but Zizza sure was. She hasn't bathed since.
She stands in the warm spray giggling, delighted with her grown-upness and hygiene.
Before every shower she reminds me "I want you to stand right there, like you did the time Enzo had a shower," So, I dutifully stand at the end of the tub, peeking in to see that her hair is thoroughly wet, dolling out shampoo and seeing that it's rinsed properly.
Getting that child clean has never been so quick, or so fun.