ElementalMom

Simplicity

Usually, the boys have popsicles in their bath. It’s a long standing tradition of mine; I used to love popsicles in the bath, the contrast between hot soapy water and cool fruity popsicle was something I savored from my own childhood, so it’s something I wanted to give them. And rather than buying corn-syrup-sweetened quiescently frozen confections of death, we bought molds and make our own popsicles, out of whatever fruit juice the boys like best at the time.Today, Rowan was tuckered out and taking an especially long nap, and Kestrel got impatient (no, really! Kes! Who knew?), and asked for his bath, alone. This is kind of a big deal; normally Kestrel is stuck to Big Brother like glue, so going offroad like this is kinda strange. But little did I know, the strangest was yet to come.

Kestrel asked for “possicle”, and I presented him with an apple-juice torpedo one. He slurped that down, asked for an orange one, and got that too. But he seemed… bored somehow. So on a whim, I threw in a few plain, old, square, freshwater ice cubes.

They were the total hit of bathtime. He played with them until they melted, asked for more, played with those. Held them under, held them over, raced with them on the slippery edge of the tub, flung them on the floor, picked them up, did it all over to see if it would happen different next time. Enthralled. About a dozen cubes met their watery end in the name of toddler science.

Plain water ice. All that, and yummy too. Who knew?