After 4 days of inside play because of the freezing winter weather, I reached into the back corner of my freezer and found an iced-over red popsicle from the warmer days of our long lost summer. I plopped EZ in the bathtub in his naked glory because I am not a laundry expert and didn't want to deal with red-popsicle-laundry-consequences. But because I love my child and didn't want his cheeks to get cold from the porcelain tub, I filled it with some warm water. I know you see where this is going, but come along with me anyway.
So: naked baby, warm water, tub, red popsicle. And there might be some violation of certain sanitation standards... but none of that crossed my mind in what I was doing.
EZ is stoked. He'd take a lick and then laugh and then splash some water and then another lick, and I'm feeling really great because I've just given my cabin-fever'd baby a new experience. There was a knock on the door and I ran to say hi to the Missionaries and let them know it wasn't a good time to discuss the business of the Church while my child was in the bath. I was away for less than a minute, but when I came back half of EZ's popsicle was gone. Melted away in the now tinted pink bath water. His face showed confusion, but he still had half a popsicle and was very into the situation. We sang a song and he showed off his popsicle in between licks and splashes, and then I played a game of Ruzzle on my phone (2 minutes exactly.) After I was finished Ruzzlin' all my words, I looked up to find the popsicle was completely gone. EZ was holding the stick out and giving me the most distinct look of blame/sadness/disbelief that he's ever conjured up on his sweet face. WHAT JUST HAPPENED.
I sat there on the floor of my bathroom in my leggings and baggy sweatshirt, and looked at my son who was not aware of the laws of nature. He didn't understand that hot cancelled cold, and bath water cancelled popsicle. All he knew was that his delicious red popsicle was no more, and mom mom mom mom UH-OH and sad face.
For a moment I realized the enormity of parenthood. This was my job. To teach him as best I can and then take the blunt of emotions when he didn't understand. Talk him and hug him through all sorts of situations that he may not be prepared for, or even understand. It's huge.
And then that moment passed and I started laughing. OH BOY did I laugh. I laughed until my stomach hurt. And then tears came to my eyes and my cheeks were sore and still, I was laughing. It was just so funny and absurd and obvious that this would happen, and EZ was completely unaware. His mother was uncontrollably laughing on the bathroom floor and he was wondering what in the world had happened to his treat.
So I got him another popsicle and this time he laughed along side me when it (once again) melted into the deepening pink bath water.
It was a really good moment.
(And hello to any C. Jane readers that clicked over! She has very soft hands and I'd recommend holding them any time. And the blogging panel last night was great and I'm reminded how much I love blogging and blogs and bloggers. I'll add my own Amen.)