My Baby The Ninja Shower Thief

I get a hair cut once every season or so. I'm lazy like and since I have such little experience with hair cuts I usually get a rather bad one so it takes a while for it to grow out and for me to get over the demoralizing traumatization of walking around looking likeI was on the losing end of a fight with a weed wacker. So it's a vicious cycle, I fear hair cuts so I don't go which leads to poor decisions when I'm there which just re-affirms my deeply held belief that people who cut hair, hate people and me in particular. 

Before in the crazy bubble economy days of two weeks ago, I would have splurged the extra three dollars and gone for the hair wash and style after the cut but since we're poor now I decided I could probably handle the hair washing part on my own, paid the bill and with the baby in tow went home to take a shower.

Now, the water heater in our apartment is a tempermental beast and I usually run it for a minute or two to figure out if it's going to be hot enough to shower in. Sometime during this time Aidan had decided that he would like to shower instead. Aidan doesn't shower, he takes baths and by baths I mean he sits in the tub and plays with his Thomas the Train bath toys and sings the Thomas the Train song to himself over and over at the top of his lungs until he prunes up enough to scare himself. At which point he starts to yell, "Honey! Done NOW DONE NOW DONE NOW!" 

This is the point where I ask him, "You're done now?" and he'll respond all nonchalant, "Okay, I'm done now" and show me his wrinkled fingertips, "Winkley!" Since we're having family over for the weekend, I decide I'll take this oppertunity to wash his hair. We both try to avoid this as much as possible since the hysterical shrieks and water splashing followed by the crying and demands for hugs by the wet soapy baby are a bit much for me and he doesn't like to be clean. No, that's a lie, he loves to be clean, he's fastidious about washing his face and hands but not his hair. He's like Sampson, no one touches his hair. 

Undaunted by his furious howls of protest and not in a small way fueled by my irritation by having my shower denied, I set to work massaging the shampoo into his hair at which point he yelled out, "Ouch! Honey, you're broken me!" More crying and tearful accusations of broken him and ensue and eventually he's clean, I'm soaked and now there's no more hot water.