After about 5 minutes into giving the girls their bath tonight, Roxy started diving, jumping and splashing about - so much so that she kept choking on the water. Though she was having fun, I had to warn her to stop or she would be removed from the tub. She did the dive again, choked again, and I gave her another warning - reminding her that the last time she did this (a couple of weeks ago) she puked in the tub and we had to remove everything for a good cleaning. Well, being the "spirited" child she is, she started jumping up and down nearly knocking her head on the faucet. I can't believe I gave her one last warning but I did because I know how much she LOVES bath time (and she's the second child?). I knew she would break the rule again so I prepared for the worst and got a towel ready. Sure enough, she dove again (head fully submerged) and came up sputtering and burped a very loud burp. I told her I was disappointed in her bad choice and reached in to take her out.

Not easy.

Roxy is feisty. Within a nano-second, her body went rigid and she did EVERYTHING she could to keep her legs and feet in the tub. I used all my strength to pull her out and couldn't believe her determination. Of course she was also screaming at this point. When she realized I was winning the battle, she stayed stiff as a board but started screaming so loud I thought the neighbors would surely call Child Protective Services. I wrapped her in a towel, held her close and walked her to the living room for our "talk." She knows about our talks now. Pretty much, I just talk to her and replay the scenario verbally to remind her why the situation happened the way it did. I keep my voice quite, even sing-songy, and remain as calm as possible in a completely chaotic moment. It usually takes her a good 5 minutes to settle down. This time was no different except for the sound that came out of her. I really can't even describe it. But it probably came pretty close to the loudest/worst possible shrill scream she is capable of giving. Sean just watched from the living room floor laughing. Had I not seen the humor in it myself, I probably would have called a lawyer tomorrow.

I gave Roxy her options: 1) To go into her room where she can cry on her bed but the door would be closed because we don't want to hear it or 2) Get into her pajamas, snuggle on the couch and read some books.

After some coaxing, she (thankfully) chose the latter.

All of this diving under the bath water makes me think perhaps she's ready to try swim lessons again...