Bloomin' Hang Nail

Henry has this thing about hangnails. He just can't bear to have one for longer than a few seconds. When he does he says "I got a hangnail. I need to get the clippers".

Tonight while he was bathing I decided to cut my toenails. When he saw me with the clippers he jumped out of the bath, came running over all sudsy and wet and said "Mum, have you got a bloomin' hang nail?". He inspected my toenails as if he were specially trained in detecting rogue hang nails and passed over each one until he got to the one I had not correctly cut. "Oh, I'll get it" he cried out and then just grabbed that thing and ripped it right off my toe and threw it in the bin.

And it's only a plastic storage box.

This is Henry's newest and most favourite way of having a bath. We have only a shower and up until Maya came up with the bright idea of filling the tub that usually holds his hundreds of matchbox cars with water and letting him languish till his hearts content he was satisfied with a quick shower.

He gets into that thing and then won't get out. I have to bribe him with a spoon full of "kintella" (nutella) to get him to even hang one leg over the edge. He'll stay in there until he resembles a flaky prune. He puts his cars in and washes them then starts on the shampoo bottles. He insists that whoever is in there supervising him must read several hundreds of books all to his choosing. It must be just the right temperature and have no less than five squirts of baby soap in it and the supervisor must not, under any circumstances, join him in song. If he starts to sing five little ducks he wants to do it alone. The supervisor is allowed to sit, only on the stool, but must not do anything other than read the books he has first approved.

I should be grateful that he considers a square plastic storage box to be the equivalent of a porcelain spa bath complete with gold fittings.