And for each of my children, I definitely have a moment that will forever be ingrained on my hard drive.
As a baby, Big Brother once fired a #2 cannon at me while on the changing pad. Fortunately, I had pulled my head out of the way moments before, and he did not have radar lock on me. But the wall was not so lucky.
Not to be outdone, Little Brother saved his moment for his newborn pictures. I was holding him (in the buff--him, not me) for one of the shots, and in a span of about 5 minutes he managed to douse me with #1, #2, and spit-up (the latter just for good measure).
So, unsurprisingly, Bab-E Brother grew tired of "waiting in the wings", and decided he was ready to make his mark.
And oh, how did he make that mark.
Mom-E was out of town, and the boys and I were just batchin' it together. After work, I picked up Big Brother, and then we went to pick up Little Brother and Bab-E Brother. By that time, it was about 6pm, which is also known as the "hour in which small men get hangry".
So we took a vote, and it was decided that we would go to McDonalds (or N-Donalds, as Little Brother calls it) and play on the playground for a treat.
Bab-E Brother finished off his milk bottle during the van ride there.
We no sooner get in to N-D's than Bab-E Brother gags (probably on some boogers), and then pukes.
And then he puked again because he puked.
And then he puked because he puked because he puked.
You get the idea.
Don't get me wrong, I've been spit-up/puked on countless times. They all PALED in comparison to this one.
I mean we're talking about being filmed for a sequel, "The Exorcist Goes to N-Donalds".
I felt like the kids on "You Can't Do That on Television", except with puke, not green slime.
Bab-E Brother's romper is completely toasted.
Dad-E's pants are completely toasted.
Dad-E's SHOES are completely toasted.
Of course, the diaper bag is still in the van (hey, it's pink, and I figured we'd be cool). But at least he HAS a change of clothes.
I handled the situation well. I didn't puke myself. I remained calm. I gathered up the other boys, and we all headed to the bathroom.
To find that there were NO paper towels.
So we used the sink to semi-rinse Bab-E Brother, who was stripped down to his diaper.
My shirt was so bad that I took it off, leaving only a Hanes undershirt. I could do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about my pants or shoes.
Meanwhile, Big Brother and Little Brother were still at a loss as to why they hadn't gotten their kids meals yet.
And so with screams and protests (and even a promise to go through the drive through) we left.
"Why are we leaving, Dad-E?"
"Because your brother and I are covered in puke, dudes."
I must've looked "awesome" sporting an undershirt and puke-covered pants & shoes, holding a puke-smelling Bab-E wearing only a diaper, and trying to get 2 boys with sensitive noses to follow us.
In fact, I'm sure you can expect to see our commercial for N-Donalds air soon. I know I was lovin' it.
We made it home and everyone got fed and bathed. (Bab-E Brother must've felt fine afterwards, because he practically tackled his brothers to get ahold of a chicken nugget.)
And not to be upstaged, Big Brother had the comment of the night. When we got in the van, he looked at me and very calmly, pensively remarked: "Dad-E, I don't think I want to have babies."
I hope that Mom-E's not scared to leave us again. :)
Have a good, puke-free, weekend,