Some toddlers hate baths, at least for a stretch of time. I know this because my daughter went through several long stretches when she cried during every bath and tried to climb out. She was scared of having water poured over her head, but I couldn’t find a better way to wash her hair.

Based on our experience, here are some things to try if your toddler hates baths:

1) Stay positive. No matter how much your child fusses and resists, keep a calm demeanor and a smile on your face during bath time. Our emotions rub off on our kids.

2) Get the washing part over with quickly, then let your kid relax and play in the tub. Letting her linger in the tub without the threat of rinsing can help her get used to happy bath time. Sometimes, let her take a bath that does not involve washing at all – just splashing and playing!

3) Role play bath time with a doll or stuffed animal. This was a highly effective technique for us. We pretended that my daughter’s stuffed flamingo didn’t like baths because water got in her face, and we reminded flamingo to close her eyes and mouth as we pretended to pour water over her head. Thanks to the role playing, My daughter rapidly learned to close her eyes in the bath “like flamingo.”

4) Try a visor or washcloth to keep water out of your child’s face. Your kid might enjoy the task of holding the item over their forehead to keep the water at bay.

5) Anthropomorphize the water. It sounds silly, but treating the water as a “character” can help a kid feel more comfortable with it. Say “Hi water!” as it’s filling the tub, and “Bye-bye water!” as it’s going down the drain. Try phrases like, “The water likes to help get you clean!” and “The water likes it when you splash!”

6) Take a shower. It can be fun for a toddler to take a shower with mommy and daddy, and this will help him get used to the feeling of water falling on his head. Just make sure that your shower has a bath mat for traction.

My toddler is much more comfortable in the bath now. She has even started laying on her tummy and blowing bubbles. Bath time is finally fun!

Last month, I almost missed my flight due to the challenges of traveling with a 21-month-old. While optimism is a good personal trait, it’s best avoided on travel days. I wish that I had arrived at the airport a full hour earlier to give myself some breathing room.

To help you avoid the same mistake, here are five reasons to get to the airport EARLY with a toddler:

1) You’ll be schlepping extra stuff. (Add 10-20 mins.) When you’re used to breezing through an airport with a purse and a wheeled carry-on, it’s easy to forget how much longer it takes to manage all of the STUFF that a toddler requires. If you are bringing a stroller, pack n play, car seat, and/or diaper bag, you are going to be encumbered. Don’t forget that the toddler herself is essentially another piece of baggage.

2) Your lap child might need a boarding pass. (Add 10-20 mins.) If you are flying with a lap child (i.e. if you didn’t purchase a seat for your child under 2 years old) you may need to go to the ticketing counter to show your child’s birth certificate and pick up a boarding pass. Southwest, for example, requires that parents get a boarding pass for their lap child, but does not issue them in advance – you have to pick it up at the airport and show a copy of the birth certificate. If lines at the ticketing counter are long, you might be in for a stressful wait. [Note that a printed copy or even a scan of the birth certificate on your phone/computer are acceptable; you don’t need the original.]

3) Security delays are likely. (Add 5-10 mins.) Going through the security checkpoint will take longer with a baby or toddler, especially if you’re not a frequent flyer. Last time I flew with my kid, I plum forgot to remove my laptop from my bag, and so had to wait around for the additional screening. Also, kids are allowed liquids in excess of the 3oz rule – such as pouches, formula, breastmilk, or medicines – but these may require additional screening, and thus additional time.

4) Poop happens. (Add 10 mins.) As we all know, even the most “regular” kid might produce a dirty diaper at any moment. Changing a kid on the plane is not an easy task, so you’ll want to build in at least 10 minutes before boarding to hustle off to the restroom.

5) Toddlers have tempers. (Add 10 mins.) Toddlers are independent creatures who don’t always tolerate being led around, or being forced into a stroller when they want to walk and explore. If your kid winds up face-down crying on the ground (like mine recently did) you’ll be glad that you built in some extra time to soothe and distract her rather than having to wrestle and drag a melting fusspants towards the gate in time for family boarding.

So there you have it – five good reasons to add about 60 minutes to your arrival time at the airport for your next trip!

Have additional suggestions? Horror stories about almost missing your flight with a toddler? Share in the comments below!

The annual Bethesda Magazine/Bethesda Urban Partnership short story contest winners have been announced, and I am excited to say that a very dear friend of mine has won third place! Heather and I have been part of a mini writing group for the past few years. While I fail on a regular basis to submit stories to the group, Heather reliably sends multiple pages of prose on the last day of every month. I am so impressed by her talent and her commitment to creative writing as an outlet amid a busy family life. If you’re looking for an interesting post-apocalyptic story to read, look no further!

Wireweed

by Heather Sisan

It’s been exactly eight days and 13 hours since Bram went out on patrol. I can’t help keeping the morbid tally, not to mention startling every time the intercom crackles. The whole community gets on edge when a patrol doesn’t come back. Even though we’ve all lost so many loved ones—no one’s ever safe—it still feels like we can’t bear another loss.

I don’t think it was fair of them to send him, not when I’m this close. As of yesterday morning, I’m officially 38 weeks—the 38 longest weeks of my life—and it could happen any time now. Mig read that first babies are usually late, which comforts me. I’m scared to death, if you want to know the truth; I don’t want it to happen, and I don’t want to go on being pregnant. I just wish, most of the time, that I could get out of my skin and be someone else.

Some more numbers, to put things in perspective. The community is 235 people, including about 40 children and teenagers, which includes me. It’s in what used to be upstate New York, used to be rolling pastures full of dairy cows, the kind of scene they printed on cartons of organic milk. No one would put our landscape on a carton now. The wind stirs up massive dust storms from the ravines and hillsides and clatters in the bare branches of the trees. There is an ethereal beauty to this kind of scenery, some people claim. The land is stripped clean, right down to its bones. At 15, I’m old enough to remember what Earth was like when it was green, when there were such things as birds, when rain didn’t pit and corrode the dome shields over the colony. Some of the youngest kids don’t know any different.

It’s the third shift and I’m falling asleep in my chair. I heave myself up, feeling the weight settle down hard like a bowling ball against the bones of my pelvis, my knees aching in protest, and start pacing back and forth. Across the room, Laner is scribbling in his notebook. It’s still about two hours before dawn.

“Go on home if you want, Jace,” he says without looking at me. “You don’t need to be here.”

“I’m OK,” I say. “It’s only another couple hours anyway.” The irony is that I can almost doze off in that chair, but as soon as I lie down on a bed I’ll be wide awake and fighting off a panic attack, my mind churning with what might have happened to Bram. With what could soon happen to me.

…click here to keep reading!

Q. What costs up to $10,000 per pound, comes from the intestines of a sperm whale, and looks like an ordinary rock?

A. Why, ambergris, of course!

Ambergris is a waxy substance that is produced by whales when they’re having digestive troubles (likely after swallowing hard and pointy squid beaks). Supposedly, only about 1% of sperm whales can make it. After passing from the whale, it bobs in the ocean for decades and hardens, eventually washing up on a beach to be found by ambergris hunters or very, very lucky beachgoers. It is mostly used as an ingredient in perfumes, due to its unique scent and ability to affix scents to human skin.

Here are some descriptions of the scent of ambergris:

• “It’s beyond comprehension how beautiful it is. It’s transformative. There’s a shimmering quality to it. It reflects light with its smell. It’s like an olfactory gemstone.” – Mandy Aftel, perfumer

• “…reminiscent of tobacco, Brazil nuts, a fern copse, or the wood in old churches.” – Eric Spitznagel

• “My brain swims. All at once, I smell: old cow dung; the lumps of wet, rotting wood that I have kicked along the beach; tobacco, drying seaweed…. And, beneath it all, something indescribably elemental. It is a mixture of the low and the high. The unavoidable and the unobtainable.” – Chris Kemp

• “The problem with trying to describe the smell of ambergris is that it really only smells like ambergris.” – Chris Kemp

Well, heck, I really want to smell the stuff now!

Because of its rarity and desirability, ambergris is an extremely valuable, recession-proof commodity. These qualities also mean that its trade is shrouded in secrecy and controversy. In the United States, possessing ambergris has been illegal since 1973, because sperm whales are protected by the Endangered Species Act. International trade appears to be legal, and perfumeries in France will gladly buy up any supply they can find.

I just purchased this book on my Kindle and look forward to reading it. My one worry is that, after completing the book, I will be so fixated on the idea of smelling pure ambergris that I will have to quit my job and embark on a global quest to find it.