I read several (and I mean several) books geared towards teaching petrified young men to be confident, capable daddies. I learned about changing diapers, how to hold the baby, how to exercise the baby, how to make the baby cry so you can cut in line while your in the returns line at Wal-mart. All very important things. What they never mentioned was how as the baby grows and begins to learn to use his arms/legs more effectively he is going to start beating you senseless.
For example: I know I read at least a dozen times about how soft the baby’s head is and how you gotta be careful with the soft spot. All I heard was “Watch the soft spot” “Be careful with the soft spot” “The doctor is checking his soft spot”. Soft spot my butt!! Everyday. Everyday!!! Fred rams that little noggin right into my nose, mouth, eye and he never feels a thing. I’m searching for the tooth he just knocked out and he’s already reaching for Barney. Lucy got hit in the same place 3 times in a row the other night. He’s all “Oh mommy I love you soooo much. Thank you for picking me up and tickling my tummy. WHAM!!! WHAM!!! WHAM!! HAVE A SLICE OF FOREHEAD SISTER!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
And those finger nails. It’s like my wife gave birth to Wolverine or something. We had to throw out the playpen because he sliced his way through the side like it was butter. Do you know how embarrassing it is walking around with an eye patching looking like you decided to wear your Pirates of the Caribbean costume the whole week of Halloween because your baby cut you from cheek to hairline? We have to clip them in his sleep for fear that he’ll go all Tasmanian Devil if we tried it while he was awake and looking us in the eyes… or in my case eye.
We finally manage to dodge the head butts and Freddy Krueger fingers, just in time to get kicked in the crotch with both feet at the same time. The two of us lying on the couch together watching the ball game. Dad and son enjoying a moment of bonding. Suddenly the little guy flips back into a handstand, curls up, and stomps my winker out my butt-hole. Again, I’m trying to find my marbles that I swore shot out and rolled under the couch; Fred’s done grabbed the remote and turned it into a popsicle. Nobody wants to change the channels with a slimy, sticky, drool covered remote. The whole point of being on the couch is to avoid being up and doing things that will cause you to have to wash your hands.
What is up with hand washing?!? Lucy’s all “Wash your hands”, “Did you wash your hands?” “Can you take this out, put this up, and grab the baby? Oh and wash your hands”
I was coming out of the bathroom at church and this smarty artie seven-year-old screams “Ummmmmmm you didn’t wash your hannnnnnndddssssss.” I said I was about to and the brat said, “Use soap!” Normally I don’t like to be bossed around, but with the eye patching making it hard to see and my bruised manhood making it hard to stand, I figured he might go an tell my baby to finish the job.
2 comments:
I hope you have found your marbles...no further comments.
Honey
LOL!! I also found our very quickly that regardless how many books, blogs, and forums I've read, the real thing is completely different. Sure we should be gentle with the little one by holy crap tehy are built to take all kids of abuse. I mean falling down teh satairs and tripping over a million times when they start to walk. They just shrug it off. Wish I could do the same.
You think your wife is giving you a hard time with washing your hands? Just wait until she starts with the freaking hand sanitizer. Wherever we go it comes out. At the playground, restaurants, bus, and friends house. I know it's good to be clean but what's up with the latin women and hand sanittizers? If they can pick between bringing food for the kids and sanitizer they will probably pick the latter.
Oh, and hope your equipment recovers:-))
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