Spritz

I'm trying not to laugh. I'm trying to focus on doing laundry. I'm not successful at either.

A few moments ago, I took out the SHOUT bottle so that I could prepare the children's laundry. Facing Asher's poop stains and Tahlia's food stains is not small task. I girded myself and found a comfortable position on the floor. Tahlia, of course, wanted to help.

I quickly find her spray bottle, one that we bought for her so that she could practice washing windows, an activity we hope to enlist her in in the future. The spray bottle is simply filled with water.

I have all of the laundry sorted and start spraying. Tahlia startles me when I see that she can actually, by holding the back of the spray bottle with one hand and the handle with the other, squeeze the bottle on her own, thus producing a stream of water. Unfortunately for her, the nozzle is facing her, and she is squirted in the face. She smiles. I take the bottle and spritz the air several times. Most lands on her, and she squeals and dashes from the kitchen. When she builds enough courage, she comes back for a second round. The floor is slippery now with water so I spread towels out to aid traction. More spritzing occurs, to both parties, and we are now each a little damp.

The laundry, I realize, is not doing itself. I tell Tahlia she's on her own and pick up the SHOUT. I finish one shirt, and then, no more.

She is holding the bottle with the nozzle purposefully towards her face. She sprays it, deliberately at herself and gasps, sucks air in through her nose. Repeats the process. After several times, she puts the bottle down and goes over to lie down on one of the towels. I watch on as she dries her face on the toweled floor. I'm sad for a moment as
a. Mommy was unable to see it.
b. I didn't have the alacrity to find the video recorder to capture this moment on tape.

Fortune is with me. She returns and picks up the bottle. This time the first spray is immense, and she gasps loudly. I call to Mommy, and, although Mommy is currently on the phone, she comes over to see the spectacle. Tahlia continues to spray. While Mommy attempts to hide her guffawing, Tahlia goes to dry off. I scramble for the video recorder and am rewarded by finding it in close proximity.

I don't say a word. I pretend she is a lion, and I am a documentary maker on the Serengeti. I start rolling film.

For approximately ten minutes I film in silence while Tahlia entertains herself by either spraying herself or me. While she dries off her face on the floor. While she sings a song about Brianna.

These are the moments parents always want to capture. Moments of found joy.