Spa Night

No, the spa night wasn't for me, but for the kids.

M, all four years of her little being, has taken an extreme dislike lately of bathing. She has ultra-curly hair and in order to avoid impossible tangles, we have to shampoo frequently. At least every other day. She hates it, I understand, the brush hurts, the shampoo irritates. One evening last week, I came up with a plan.

We had spent an hour or so playing her favorite game of "Beauty Parlor," which involved nail polish and makeup. I said, "Little M, Little Me, we're at a spa. My name's Clarissa." Her eyes lit up and I knew she was remembering the word used by her aunt, who sells body lotions for a living. One time we had a party at my house, we had bins of hot water for our feet, colored, scented soaps, lotions, towels...we were all at a makeshift spa.

With M trailing behind me, we went to the bathroom and lit a green, perfumed candle, pulled out a pink terry-cloth robe from my closet, and clicked on instrumental Chinese music on the portable cd player set up on the toilet. I dimmed the lights as she came in, carrying her fluffy Barbie chair...I smiled and welcomed her to the first official Spa Night. Ooo la la!

Faster than I could say, spa soap, M was undressed and in the tub that was full of bubbles. We spoke softly to one another in the low light, I told her new persona, Ms. Chloe, to relax, to meditate, and I managed to wash her hair and soap her little body with narry a complaint. Even A got into the game. He brought M fishies in a toy tea cup to add to the ambiance. When she was done and robed, I quickly threw HIM in the tub and he was happy to meditate, too. I gave him a special eye pad, meant to reduce the puffiness, and he lay back in the water, cucumber-colored, foamy plastic on his eyes.

M happily sat in the Barbie chair, enveloped in the too-big robe, and let me brush the tangles out and dry her hair.

Not too long later, the kids were asleep...it was all so easy, so sweet. I almost felt as if it had been me in that spa.