If you have not read "The Blowout!" Stop here and read it before continuing. Click here to read "The Blowout!"
For those of you that have been following me for a while, I am sure that you picked up on the foreshadowing in the title.
Over the past 18 months of fatherhood I have experienced a lot of "baby stuff". Changing diapers has become part of my daily life and does not bother me. I've had baby dookie on my hands, stuck to my clothes and even smeared on my face. Those tough ones work up a sweat and I have to wipe my brow.
I never imagined the following scenario taking place, but guess what? It did.
I never imagined the following scenario taking place, but guess what? It did.
Charlie and I were hanging out at Paw-Paw and Nana's last night while Jamie attended bootcamp. Charlie was in a great mood. He was playing the piano, running around the house and trying to get his hands on Paw-Paw's model airplanes. I was playing along with Charlie and waiting for dinner.
Charlie went to his high-chair and attempted to pull it into the kitchen. This is an obvious sign that it is time for him to eat. I lifted him into his chair and prepared his dinner. I made him a hot dog, gave him some cheese and he proceeded to chow down. Paw-Paw came home with a white paperbag that gave off an aroma that Charlie recognizes. French Fries!
Charlie immediately turned on the cuteness in hopes that Paw-Paw would give him a french fry. It worked, of course. Charlie held his treat with his thumb and fore-finger and had his pinky pointed out as if he was sipping a glass of tea.
Charlie finished his meal and I lifted him from his seat and stood him on the floor. We retreated to the living room to continue playing and acting silly. About five minutes into our play time Charlie started with his "shoulder raises". A tell-tale sign of download in progress. I let him do his business and returned to the kitchen where I could still keep an eye on him. To ensure that "download" was complete I gave him a few extra minutes to work out the "bugs". This would prove to be a bad decision.
During the few extra minutes that I allowed before changing Charlie's diaper, he was climbing on the couch, running around the room, burying himself under the pillows and making silly faces. I happen to notice a few times that he kept reaching back and grabbing his shorts as if something did not feel right. I thought "Maybe he knows that he did his business and it is time to start potty training?"
I walked into the living room to begin the diaper changing/ wrestling match process. I looked down at the couch and noticed that the cushion was wet. This is not unusual for a child that is drooling 24/7. I placed two fingers onto the wet spot to perform a sniff test and determine if the substance was benign or malignant. I raised my fingers to my nose and "BAM!" The odor hit me like a baseball bat in the face.
Charlie must have been watching my face and found my expression to be amusing because he giggled with a giant smile on his face. As I leaned down to pick him up I noticed that his legs were wet. We were now at defcon 5. All codes confirmed, launch missles! I grabbed him underneath the arms and rushed him to the bathtub. My arms were straight out to create safe transport distance between him and my body. His legs dangled like marianette limbs and bounced with every stride that I took. Charlie thought it was a fun ride.
I yelled to Nana to grab me a diaper. I placed Charlie in the bathtub and began immediate decon procedures. Water on, check. Clothes off, check. Diaper off, check. Weird smell crinkle face, check. He looked like Frosty the Snowman when I finished lathering him in soap. He thought it was great.
I finished washing him and returned to find the trail of tears in the living room. On the couch, on the pillow, on the floor, everywhere. I grabbed the cleaning supplies and some paper towels. Was I raising a puppy or a human? Charlie wanted to help clean up (He does take after his mother), but I would not allow him for obvious reasons. There were already enough casualties.
How in the world did my child harbor that much waste in his little body? He used to weigh 28 pounds. Now he must be down to 25. The icing on the cake is that before Jamie left she said, "He has not gone today." Next time I hear that, guess who is in charge. I've had my share of blowouts.
Charlie went to his high-chair and attempted to pull it into the kitchen. This is an obvious sign that it is time for him to eat. I lifted him into his chair and prepared his dinner. I made him a hot dog, gave him some cheese and he proceeded to chow down. Paw-Paw came home with a white paperbag that gave off an aroma that Charlie recognizes. French Fries!
Charlie immediately turned on the cuteness in hopes that Paw-Paw would give him a french fry. It worked, of course. Charlie held his treat with his thumb and fore-finger and had his pinky pointed out as if he was sipping a glass of tea.
Charlie finished his meal and I lifted him from his seat and stood him on the floor. We retreated to the living room to continue playing and acting silly. About five minutes into our play time Charlie started with his "shoulder raises". A tell-tale sign of download in progress. I let him do his business and returned to the kitchen where I could still keep an eye on him. To ensure that "download" was complete I gave him a few extra minutes to work out the "bugs". This would prove to be a bad decision.
During the few extra minutes that I allowed before changing Charlie's diaper, he was climbing on the couch, running around the room, burying himself under the pillows and making silly faces. I happen to notice a few times that he kept reaching back and grabbing his shorts as if something did not feel right. I thought "Maybe he knows that he did his business and it is time to start potty training?"
I walked into the living room to begin the diaper changing/ wrestling match process. I looked down at the couch and noticed that the cushion was wet. This is not unusual for a child that is drooling 24/7. I placed two fingers onto the wet spot to perform a sniff test and determine if the substance was benign or malignant. I raised my fingers to my nose and "BAM!" The odor hit me like a baseball bat in the face.
Charlie must have been watching my face and found my expression to be amusing because he giggled with a giant smile on his face. As I leaned down to pick him up I noticed that his legs were wet. We were now at defcon 5. All codes confirmed, launch missles! I grabbed him underneath the arms and rushed him to the bathtub. My arms were straight out to create safe transport distance between him and my body. His legs dangled like marianette limbs and bounced with every stride that I took. Charlie thought it was a fun ride.
I yelled to Nana to grab me a diaper. I placed Charlie in the bathtub and began immediate decon procedures. Water on, check. Clothes off, check. Diaper off, check. Weird smell crinkle face, check. He looked like Frosty the Snowman when I finished lathering him in soap. He thought it was great.
I finished washing him and returned to find the trail of tears in the living room. On the couch, on the pillow, on the floor, everywhere. I grabbed the cleaning supplies and some paper towels. Was I raising a puppy or a human? Charlie wanted to help clean up (He does take after his mother), but I would not allow him for obvious reasons. There were already enough casualties.
How in the world did my child harbor that much waste in his little body? He used to weigh 28 pounds. Now he must be down to 25. The icing on the cake is that before Jamie left she said, "He has not gone today." Next time I hear that, guess who is in charge. I've had my share of blowouts.
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