I got the bucket out and filled it just under half way. As soon as I set it down, Cooper tootled over and immediately put his hands in the warm water (there was no cleaning detergents in the water – I try not to use any when Cooper is around). “Perfect!” I thought. “Cooper can sweetly play in the water while I clean the floor.” I even rolled up his sleeves so they wouldn’t get wet.
OK. Does anyone already sense a flaw in my thinking at that moment? It’s like in a movie when the music kicks in and everybody watching knows what’s getting ready to happen…everyone, that is, except for the naively innocent person in the movie who's not listening to the soundtrack.
I was on my hands and knees scrubbing away for approximately 30 seconds when the most beautiful thought crossed my mind. ”Here I am, cleaning with my son. He’s learning to play by himself. I’m getting my work done. We’re in here together, and I’ve come up with a creative way to keep him distracted.”
What was I thinking? How could I have not seen that coming? I was pulling towels off the towel rack and trying to figure out what to do with Cooper. I put him in the bathtub with the now empty bucket and some toys while I got things cleaned up. I ended up completely changing him because he was soaking wet! (Although he didn’t seem to mind one bit.)
Not only did I not anticipate Cooper knocking the bucket of water over (how could I not see that coming…he knocks everything over!), but how exactly did I plan to rinse the rags I was using to clean the floor as I went along? That’s the point of the bucket of water. Clearly I wasn’t going to rinse the rag and then let him continue playing in dirty water. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead apparently. I was too overcome with my initial brilliant plan.
In the end, the floor did get cleaned. Just not exactly how I expected it to.
Before we had a child, Scott and I always joked that when you became a parent you checked your brain at the door. Let’s just say that I believe that more than ever.