As it turns out, shampoo that does not specifically call out an attribute of “tear-free” on its packaging is definitely not tear-free. Even if you only use a little bit.
Last night we were out of the tear-free variety, so I was faced with a very difficult decision. Either I could ignore the repulsive smell emanating from my two 3-year-olds OR I could experiment and hope to get the shampoo out of their hair without getting any into their eyes.
Ok, in fairness to me, I only used a little bit of shampoo. Normally, I would gauge the level of filthy boy-ness and meter out the shampoo quantity accordingly. After playing outside in the heat, usually this requires a solid handful of shampoo, and then I usually drizzle a little extra straight from the bottle onto their little heads. Lots of shampoo and soap is required to make these boys clean after a day of doing all their muddy, grassy, buggy boy things.
But I refrained. I held myself back and only used the prescribed dime-sized amount, as the Suave people suggest. (Except that it was probably more like a half-dollar sized dollop, just for good measure.)
All went well until the rinsing part. Their little heads were coifed in the familiar baby-in-the-bathtub-with-a-mohawk style, full of clean-smelling shampoo (that I was fervently praying was not the eye-stingy kind).
I handed Jadon a towel to hold over his eyes, and he held it there for about 2 seconds before he dropped it into the tub—right before the first gushing waterfall hit his head to rinse the suds. I had already started pouring the cup of water over his head when he dropped his towel.
What I heard next was a sort of screech-howl that finally peaked on some ungodly, eardrum-shattering note. It sounded like a pack of wolves was being attacked by chimpanzees. (I have not actually witnessed that event, but I’m guessing there would be some shrieking involved.)
At the same time, picture if you will, a small wildebeest performing a Native American rain dance. Because that’s what he was doing while he was shrieking.
I got the wildebeest another towel and quickly got the rest of the shampoo out of his hair.
Jordan’s ordeal was not nearly so eventful, as he had the foresight to actually hold onto his towel. I’m totally blaming this on the kid—he should have held onto his towel.
This scientific experiment has proven the effectiveness of regular shampoo when it comes to making kids cry. I would not recommend it.