Sunday, January 4, 2009

Play With Dad-E at Own Risk

My sister-in-law recently graduated with her master’s degree. While the rest of the family went out to a “fondue restaurant”, I stayed with the boys (knowing that after a two-hour dinner with them, we'd have to rename it the "Melt Down Pot"). I decided it'd be fun to take the boys to a playground/park. The park is at the municipal complex, which includes the local courthouse and police department.

To set the stage, little brother is strapped to my belly facing forward in the Baby Bjorn, while big brother is free to run amok.

As soon as we start to play, big brother says "I've got to go potty." Guess what? There's NOT A SINGLE POTTY at the whole park (obviously it was NOT designed by someone with children). Since the place is crawling with people, I have to walk with big brother to a fairly "remote" area. Although, we find a suitable tree to water that is obscured from view, I'm still expecting a police officer to walk up on us (given the location of the park) to see me squatted down with a baby strapped to my front and a half-naked toddler now guilty of public urination. Not a pretty sight.

Okay, mission accomplished, let's go slide!

Ten seconds later as we're walking back to the playground, big brother says "I just went poo-poo in my underwear." WHAT? You've been potty trained and haven't pooped your pants in months, why now? Big brother says "that's okay. I'll just go play." OH NO YOU WON'T! Of course, although I have a diaper bag in the car, big brother has just soiled his last pair of skivvies. Fortunately, big brother's shorts are swim trunks with a built-in underwear liner, and I decide that'll just have to do. So, back we trek to the car. Meanwhile little brother is entertaining himself with the wrapper from the spoon from the Wendy's Frosty I'd bought big brother, who was too busy soiling himself, I mean playing, to eat it (thankfully little brother is a Type B, easy to please child). We get to the car, big brother strips from the waist down, and we get him cleaned up. Again, I'm waiting for a police officer to come by and see me sitting on the pavement with a baby in my lap wiping the butt of a half-naked toddler, with an ever-growing pile of dirty wipes and turds next to us.

Okay, mission accomplished! Toddler has eliminated solid and liquid waste, solid waste now disposed of, and baby brother is STILL content to play with the plastic spoon wrapper. CAN WE PLEASE SLIDE NOW?

We slide! And we slide! Everyone slides! We slide together, big brother on one side, little brother on my lap on the other. We laugh, we pretend, we climb, we cross the suspension bridge. Everyone is having fun. We slide for an hour. Big brother has a tiny fall trying to climb up the slide, bumps his left eyebrow, but keeps on playing like nothing happened. We repeat the mantra, "WE ONLY GO DOWN THE SLIDE, NOT UP" until it soaks in.

One last slide. "Daddy I want you to slide with me," says big brother. OKAY WE'RE COMING! As we start to come up the steps, Big brother spins around, starts to come back to us, loses his balance, falls forward, and BAM! His forehead sails into the hard plastic frame around one of the slides. He cries. In the second it takes me to get him, half of his face is covered in blood. OH NO, NOT ANOTHER HEAD INJURY! PLEASE NOT ANOTHER ER TRIP FOR A HEAD CT! We get down off the playground. Some nice lady sends her husband to get their first aid kit. I use little brother's burp towel to apply pressure to the wound. My pant leg, little brother, and the burp towel are slightly covered in blood. The right side of big brother's forehead swells to the size of a golf ball, but it stops bleeding quickly. The laceration is about 1 cm long, but superficial. Doesn't look like it'll need stitches. The nice lady gives big brother a sugary drink, which he downs. We wash off the worst of the blood from big brother and little brother. Five minutes later, big brother says, "I want to play some more." NO WE DON'T! Daddy makes an executive decision that we're going home.

We drive home. Thank goodness little brother is content to eat a biter biscuit on the way home, and big brother acknowledges the need for a bath.

We get home. Suddenly, now I have to go potty (BAD!), the dog wants out of his kennel to pee, little brother is ready for his bottle and bedtime, and big brother wants to watch Ice Age on DVD. WHAT DO WE DO FIRST? Everyone (except the dog), comes to the bathroom to "help" me go potty. Except that before I can go potty, big brother has to go pee-pee again. Now we have two boys naked from the waist-down (at least now we're in private), a baby screaming on the floor, and a dog in his kennel who still has to pee. We both take care of elimination. Big brother is now roaming the house pantless. While the water for little brother's bottle is heating up, I get big brother's DVD starting (I'D PROBABLY LET HIM WATCH A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G RIGHT NOW). AT LEAST HE'S SITTING ON A TOWEL ON THE COUCH!

I'm ready to heat up the milk in the water bath. I open the fridge. WHERE IS THE MILK! I quickly scan all of the shelves to no avail. HONEY YOU FORGOT TO DRAW ME A TREASURE MAP TO FIND THE MILK! PLEASE, I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO CALL MY WIFE TO ASK HER WHERE THE MILK IS, BECAUSE SHE'LL HEAR LITTLE BROTHER SCREAMING IN THE BACKGROUND AND SHE'LL KNOW FROM THE TONE OF MY VOICE THAT EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY. Okay, there it is behind the feta. Finally, little brother's bottle is ready. In the meantime, I've prepared an icepack for big brother's head. We all sit down on the couch together. Little brother's on my lap. I feed him a bottle with my left hand while I apply an ICE AGE pack to big brother's forehead with my right hand. We finish the milk. Little brother screams because he's still hungry. Big brother assumes responsibility for his ice pack. We get little brother some more baby food (at least I hope it was baby food that I gave him). Manny, Sid, and Diego have successfully returned the baby to his daddy. It looks like we will live happily ever after too.

With minimal resistance, big brother agrees to a bath. I get both boys in the tub. Fortunately for me, I realize this requires some advanced planning, namely having towls and pj's for both boys ready. Big brother gets in the tub. I take little brother's diaper off to put him in the tub. One big glob of poop drops to the floor, and another hangs delicately from his backside. I clean him up as best as I can, and get him into the tub. Blood and poop are successfully removed from both children. NOTE TO DISINFECT TUB PRIOR TO NEXT USE! I get both children in towels on the bed and ready to get into pj's. Little brother is rolling over and over, making him a difficult moving target to dress. Big brother, who by the way napped a grand total of ten minutes today (in the car), is exhausted and finds this behavior hysterical. I get little brother dressed and put him in the center of the bed, which will give him more room to roll while I dress big brother. I start to dress big brother, only to realize I didn't rinse the shampoo from his hair. BACK TO THE TUB WE GO! Big brother voluntarily sticks his head under the faucet (the swimming instructor, would be so proud) and rinses off. We get him dressed. I get neosporin and another bandaid for his head. As I cut the bandaid in half, Big brother looks at me terrified, saying "Please don't cut my hair. I don't want you to cut me up." I reassure him. His head is bandaged.

The mood is finally calm. Oh no, we forgot to let the dog out! OKAY, YOU CAN GO OUTSIDE AND PEE NOW! Big brother wants to watch Ice Age again. FINE! I start to rock little brother to sleep, and my wife calls me on the cell phone to let me know they're coming home from dinner.

"How was your evening?" she says. I proceed to explain.

Morals of the story:

Rate this post (1 is lowest, 5 is highest)
5 free polls


  1. I love this story! I'm glad you survived and there was no permanent damage for big brother!
    The Mom

  2. Ya know...police officers have children too. Check out my blog. :-)

    You are an excellent writer!

    You have a new reader.