"Splish, splash, she was taking a bath..."

One of the great myths of babyhood is that infants enjoy their bath time. I remember the challenge of giving each of my three children their first bath. With my first, Maeg, I fully expected her to look around, appreciate the warm water and the fact that I had heated up the kitchen to sauna-type temperature with my old O'Keefe and Merritt oven (we lived in a very old, drafty California bungalow at the time). In the kitchen sink she went, to rest comfortably (at least I thought it looked comfortable) on an oversize sponge made just for such an occasion. That's when the screaming started. Not only was her first bath not particularly enjoyable, it was downright miserable. Subsequent baths were decidedly more pleasant, and as time went on, bath time was very, very enjoyable. Not so much the very first bath. Exactly the same scenario with all three children. First bath, not fun.

Flash forward twenty five years and we have Sohna. Yesterday was bath day for her. My job this time around was relegated to amateur photographer. I was happy to oblige. No more slippery, soapy, wiggly little body to attempt to bathe. Nope. I would be happily clicking away, while Sohna enjoyed her sauna-type temperature in Mom and Dad's bedroom, assisted by the space heater, since the hacienda is also very old and drafty.

Fast forward a couple of seconds. The screaming begins. Two sets of hands (Mom's and Dad's) move quickly, efficiently, albeit lovingly, to get this damn bath over with. Clearly, some things haven't changed at all in 25 years.
Baby's first bath is still awful, followed by a swift scooping up and bundling in a towel, followed by even more screaming for the "Let's get dressed, shall we?" (in a favorite outfit I saved from Taylor's infant days, 20 years ago) and then finally, the last minute grooming, the combing of the oh-so-fine baby hair, and at last, the sigh of relief by all parties that the first bath is finished. We didn't even drop the baby! It's a modern day miracle!