Thursday, April 10, 2008

BETRAYAL ON THE CHANGING TABLE

My poor little guy.

Beast was a little, um, grainy down below the other night, and it fell to me to change him since Her Awesomness was cleaning up after a truly stupendous macaroni-and-cheese-and-peas-and-hot-dog dinner entree. No problem, down comes the pull-up and wow, son, that's redder than a May Day parade in Moscow in the fifties. Gotta get the wipes and --
OWWWW!
This'll be over with in no time, big guy, just --
OWWWWW!
-- let me --
(beseechingly) Daddy, what are you doing to me?
Dude. Oh, little dude. You're gonna make me cry looking at me like that. My sweet trusting decent little guy.
(growling and glaring)
HONEY, COME BAIL ME OUT QUICK BEFORE THE KID HATES ME FOR LIFE.

Lord bless my wife, she came right quick and made the judgment call that this time it was okay if there were a few stray crudniks on the fundament, because those could be hosed off in the tub before getting the bath proper under way. A little oatmeal in the bath, a touch of ointment afterwards, and the lad was right as rain, and once mommy calmed him down he gave me one of his treasured run-n-hugs from all the way down the hall.

Which are only the best things in the world.

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