Once upon a time, I went to work. I do this most days, its a thing. Well the funny thing about this day in particular was it began with me being late for work. Ok, that's not all that bad, I mean we are all late at some point. No the most interesting thing about this day was on the drive home from the hangar, my wife called. I being the caring husband i am answered and the day got crappy...
I should have known something was amiss when all I heard was uncontrollable sobbing through the handset of the phone. I pressed for answers, was everything ok? "*crying, with the word "everywhere" understandable. I asked again What? *crying with the word Logan understandable. I was worried, Logan is everywhere? Did he pull the TV on him? *crying with the word No, its everywhere"
I only have a 10 min drive to work, so I was pulling in the driveway at this time. I pulled in, rushed inside and Jo was at the door waiting, tears in her eyes. Whats wrong I asked again? She pulled herself together for a last attempt at communication.
"Logan Pooped, its everywhere"
I was relieved, obviously my son had a bad diaper, and my wife a long day. I know the two don't mix well, she was just in hysterics. I said "Ill clean him up, take a break.
I went upstairs to go clean my son off, and change his clothes. My world was about to change, and not in the good way, like I just bought a new car, or I won 20 bucks on a scratcher. More like...I ran over my dog while late for work, and then got a flat tire on the highway, when changing the tire got splashed by disgusting puddle water, and then little raptors rain from the sky to eat little bits of my flesh over the next 3 days bad.
The first thing that hit me was the smell, it was a bad one. I was reminded of camp, when it got hot and the wind didn't blow in the latrine. But this was Virginia Summer, so its humid, which makes smell a 1000% stronger and adds the effect of taste.
I walked in to Logan's room, and there he stood, a pillar of all that is baby, he turned to look at me cheered and pointed to his handiwork. On the wall, the toy chest, the bed, the chair, the bookcase, the books, the duplos, the pushcart, the stuffed animals, the nightlight, the mattress, the carpet, the door, the trim work, the window, the drapes, the closet, the hanging clothes, the shoes, the dresser, his hands, his face, his one sock and his body.
In his other hand was a diaper, his palette. and the good news is, it was almost the cleanest thing in his room. I walked in, carefully, as if navigating a minefield. to survey the damage....
Then i looked up, and saw my 2 year old had somehow painted on the ceiling. I was both shocked and impressed, all at the same time. After the damage to my soul had been accomplished. I pulled out some cleaning supply, and we began to clean. We cleaned for a long time, a very long time. After we cleaned and had a long talk about why we don't draw on the walls, we went downstairs for dinner. While our family ate in silence, i thought about the artistic talent my son possessed, then I remembered the drawings on the wall, they were pretty shitty.
Oh yeah, his chosen media to express himself was poop, from his diaper.
Have a great Day!,
austininva
I should have known something was amiss when all I heard was uncontrollable sobbing through the handset of the phone. I pressed for answers, was everything ok? "*crying, with the word "everywhere" understandable. I asked again What? *crying with the word Logan understandable. I was worried, Logan is everywhere? Did he pull the TV on him? *crying with the word No, its everywhere"
I only have a 10 min drive to work, so I was pulling in the driveway at this time. I pulled in, rushed inside and Jo was at the door waiting, tears in her eyes. Whats wrong I asked again? She pulled herself together for a last attempt at communication.
"Logan Pooped, its everywhere"
I was relieved, obviously my son had a bad diaper, and my wife a long day. I know the two don't mix well, she was just in hysterics. I said "Ill clean him up, take a break.
I went upstairs to go clean my son off, and change his clothes. My world was about to change, and not in the good way, like I just bought a new car, or I won 20 bucks on a scratcher. More like...I ran over my dog while late for work, and then got a flat tire on the highway, when changing the tire got splashed by disgusting puddle water, and then little raptors rain from the sky to eat little bits of my flesh over the next 3 days bad.
The first thing that hit me was the smell, it was a bad one. I was reminded of camp, when it got hot and the wind didn't blow in the latrine. But this was Virginia Summer, so its humid, which makes smell a 1000% stronger and adds the effect of taste.
I walked in to Logan's room, and there he stood, a pillar of all that is baby, he turned to look at me cheered and pointed to his handiwork. On the wall, the toy chest, the bed, the chair, the bookcase, the books, the duplos, the pushcart, the stuffed animals, the nightlight, the mattress, the carpet, the door, the trim work, the window, the drapes, the closet, the hanging clothes, the shoes, the dresser, his hands, his face, his one sock and his body.
In his other hand was a diaper, his palette. and the good news is, it was almost the cleanest thing in his room. I walked in, carefully, as if navigating a minefield. to survey the damage....
Then i looked up, and saw my 2 year old had somehow painted on the ceiling. I was both shocked and impressed, all at the same time. After the damage to my soul had been accomplished. I pulled out some cleaning supply, and we began to clean. We cleaned for a long time, a very long time. After we cleaned and had a long talk about why we don't draw on the walls, we went downstairs for dinner. While our family ate in silence, i thought about the artistic talent my son possessed, then I remembered the drawings on the wall, they were pretty shitty.Oh yeah, his chosen media to express himself was poop, from his diaper.
Have a great Day!,
austininva
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