Bath time Blues

Juliette, forever the drama queen, always makes a huge production out of bath time. As long as you let her splash and play, she is fine. But the second you try to do something crazy- for example, actually wash her- she starts chanting "no mommy no mommy", and usually stands up, holds her arms up and says "Towel, I done" before the soap even hits the wash cloth. Forget about washing her hair. She will scream bloody murder. If you walked into our house while Juliette was getting her hair washed you might think we were torturing her. Juliette might agree. But a curious thing has happened over the past few days. First, watching one night while Greg washed her hair, I noticed that she sort of laughed in the middle of her screaming. Hmmm... is this a sign of something? Next, Greg installed an outdoor shower on our deck; the kind that only gets cold water from the hose, the kind you use to wash down the salt water after swimming in Long Island Sound. This excited Juliette to no end; she spent a good 20 minutes that first day running in and out of the icy cold water, "washing" her belly, her hands, her knees and get this: her hair. Finally, Juliette helped me give Cosette a bath one afternoon. This usually means splashing a lot of water around, playing with a few bath toys, and screaming in sympathy when I try to wash Cosette's hair. Well, Juliette decided that if it had to be done, she wanted to be the one to do it. So she picks up the cup and starts dumping water on Cosette's head. Poor Cosette! While I am trying desperately to keep the water both in the bathtub and out of Cosette's face, Juliette decides she needs to be in the bathtub herself; so then we have a brief struggle while I try to hold Cosette up, undiaper and undress Juliette, and help Juliette into the tub. I'm wondering if this is such a good idea when Juliette picks up the cup, fills it with water- and dumps it on her own head. Then she asks for soap so that she can "Wash my hair, mommy!". Cosette and I watched in awe as Juliette lathered, rinsed- but did not repeat- and generally enjoyed her newfound independence. OK, maybe she didn't do that great of a job, only succeeding in washing a mohawk-like swath of hair- but that is the first time ever that Juliette's hair has been washed not only without screaming, but- dare I say it out loud?- with a modicum of pleasure. I'm sure our bathtime battles aren't over, but could it be that an end is in sight?