In the kindergarten, there is a nursery. In the nursery are 18
children babies that range from 18 months to 3 years old. In this group is Lemon (obviously not her real name), aka Girl Elf Baby. ( I already have a story about Boy Elf Baby here). The nursery children have their own little garden to play outside in when the weather is nice. In this garden is a sandbox. Of course, this is Lemon’s favorite place to cause trouble. Background on Lemon: she’s crazy. She’s one of those kids that you catch about to do something naughty, then she looks at you sheepishly, has a dramatic pause full of eye contact where she gauges your reflex abilities and response time, then rushes to do whatever the hell she was going to do anyway with a maniacal grin.
Naturally, we were quickly friends.
Our friendship was tested the other week, however, when Lemon emerged from the sandbox to come inside for a new diaper. She managed to get sand everywhere. EVERYWHERE. It’s at this point where I go from the childlike perspective of, “Oh cool! Sandbox! YAY!” to adult going, “Who had this f**cking bright idea to put a sandbox in a nursery?!” As if changing the diapers of 18 children wasn’t challenging enough, someone said, “I see your challenge and raise you SAND!”
After removing the diaper and taking stock of the new sandbox on the changing table, I decide the only thing to do is to strip her and take her to the shower and hose her down, because there is no way this thick red sand is going to come off with merely a moist towelette.
I take a towel and Lemon by the hand and lead her to what I generally consider a pleasant experience, you know, bathing/showering. I forget how this isn’t the same for everybody.
I kneel down and begin to strip her down. She’s super excited. What two-year-old doesn’t love to run around naked? She’s STOKED to be in her birthday suit. Then I reach up for the shower head and turn it on and it hits her like a ton of bricks. The turn around time from “IN THIS NATURAL STATE OF BEING I WILL CONQUER THE WORLD!” to “OMG THE BETRAYAL! E TU BRUTE??” was impressive. Her little face was instantly filled with horror.
I sat her down at the bottom in some nicely warmed water and began to clean her through her tears and panicked looks of, “Dear God why me?!” Quicker than I thought but what was clearly an eternity for her later, I picked her up and dried her off, where she clung to me like a life raft. I carried her back into the nursery where her mood roller-coastered from frightened forest creature to “MUAHAHA I HAVE SURVIVED AND WILL CONTINUE MY PLANS FOR CONQUERING THIS TERRITORY!”
Our friendship has survived, thank goodness, to last until the next trial…which I think might be nap time.
Dear Parents and Whoever May Need This Info,
BABY POWDER. As a Florida beach baby, I’m telling you, baby powder. Sprinkle it on sand and it will brush easily away. You’re welcome.