Last night, Katie had a sleepover.
One of the cardinal rules for 4-year-old girl sleepovers is that you must, ahead of time, remove any objects that you think may cause disagreements. This rule is especially true in the weeks following Christmas when everything is "new" and "special."
Oh, the joys of daughters.
So, after a relatively successful sleepover with little disagreements (the girls went straight to sleep after a story on the giant air mattress that I'd blown up for them and I didn't hear a peep for the next ELEVEN hours), it is customary that we gussy ourselves up. This means bathing, which is necessary after consuming the amounts of ice cream and caramel corn that these two did.
And, in customary 4-year-old girl fashion, this often means a bath - not to be confused with a shower, which is the common practice we employ on non-sleepover-with-the-cousin days.
I warned them before I plopped them in the bath that there would be no fighting over the Dora bath doll, or the rubber duckies, or the boats or the washcloths.
They took turns famously and without a single raised eyebrow or sly look in the other's direction.
And then it was time to get out.
I wrapped my niece up in a giant beach towel with fish all over it.
And the screams began.
"Noooooo, Lily can't use that towel," she wailed.
"Excuse me?" I questioned, as perplexed as ever.
"I want the fishy towel."
"Well, Lily is using the fishy towel, you can use another. It's just a towel, you'll be fine." I said as I walked my niece into Katie's bedroom and helped her with her clothes.
When I came back into the bathroom, I was greeted with the sight of my darling daughter laying in the bottom of the empty tub.
Much screaming was coming from her angered lips.
"I can't have a normal towel! I can't have a normal towel! I can't have a normal towel!"
I guess next time, we'll have to use beige, boring towels and hide the fishy ones.