Pelo Loco

I know what you're thinking: Jeez - we get that you have a cute baby already. Now get back to the funny stories about nipples and poop.

Well, what I'm about to share with you could save your life one day. Pay attention.

At first glance, the picture above is seemingly innocent. A cute baby with wild hair playing in the tub. Who doesn't love a cute bathtub baby with wild hair picture? All clean and slippy - so cute.

Don't be fooled my friend... that's exactly what she wants you to think. Being cute is her primary defense. That and her hair. And her pepper spray.

Bath time used to be such a fun time. Ellie splashing around, squealing while she played with her little bath toys and enjoying the fact that the urine she's been sitting in for the past two days (ish... those baths are easy to forget about) was being magically washed away by her very own personal slave.

But that all changed a few weeks ago. I can't pinpoint the exact moment but somewhere along the way a switch flipped in her brain that alerted her to the fact that she will die a slow, horrible and painful death the minute liquid of any kind touched her hair and she should do anything at all costs to avoid it.

Including homicide.

It always starts innocently enough. Ellie pretending like she's having fun, me singing songs about bath time and making funny duck noises.

But we both know what's coming. We're just biding our time until the moment I reach for The Cup.

The Cup which apparently fills with acid poison water from the faucet which will wet her hair, eventually reach her face and GOD FORBID THE WORST THING EVER! maybe a little will trickle into her eyes.

At first it was easy for me to overpower her with my brute strength but Ellie is extremely crafty and much stronger than she looks. Last week I found a set of weights and a can of Body Fortress under her crib.

Her main weapon, though, is her hair. Last night I was able to hold her down long enough to wet it but before I had a chance to shampoo it she teased it out and it became a weapon of distraction. I found myself deeply entangled in her mane and she used the opportunity to grab her rubber duckie that she had filled with pepper spray while I wasn't looking and shot me in the face.

While I was on the floor she pole vaulted over my head and out of the tub, stopping only to hiss at me in the doorway, her and her still dirty hair scampering into the darkness while I lay choking, thinking about how different and wonderful my Friday nights used to be.

You've won this round, Ellie, but I've got two days to plan my next move. Let's just say that I'm working on a little something in the garage.