My son, who just turned 2 last week, likes to be naked. Keeping a diaper on this beast of a boy is a challenge to say the least. So tonight just before bed he decided it was time for the old diaper to come off. Figuring if he just wet the old diaper, he'd have a while before he had to go again. And besides, it's almost bedtime and he'll get a new fresh diaper anyway.
So as part of the "we're about to go to bed" routine, we play a bit. He likes to stand on my lap on the couch and demand "Up daddy, put me up". This involves me grabbing him around the armpits and raising him above my head. Well tonight I thought it might be fun to use the tips of my index fingers and tickle his armpits as I raised him above my head. As I tickled him, he laughed like crazy and then the little turkey peed a little bit on my hair.
I should have known better than to tickle a naked kid while holding him above my head but that seems to be the story of my daddy life. Do dumb stuff, have something to write about.
So Amazing Father: the blog was born this evening after I got showered with 2-year-old baby pee. We'll see what becomes of this blog. Had I started this blog 7 years ago with my first child (I have 3, 2 girls...a 7 year old and nearly 4 year old) we'd have had countless stories already... But I'm sure there will be plenty more for me to share about the crazy world that is the live of the Amazing Daddy....so stay tuned, subscribe, and share this blog with your friends for more crazy stories of my day-to-day life.
Amazing Dad
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
What kids do with butter
When you have your first child, you are oblivious to the fact that something as ubiquitous as butter can offer so much amazement and amusement as your child gets older. It begins around 2-years-old when the child is inquisitive enough to wonder what you're doing in the kitchen. They look up from the floor seeing you cut brightly colored square hunks to drop into a pan or watch you scrape up some soft tub butter with a knife to apply to a piece of bread. What is this mystery substance that seems to apply to nearly every act of cookery they see you perform?
Their curiosity normally begins with what we refer to in our home as the "exploratory poke". That uncertain, extended finger that slowly approaches something new much like a cheetah on the Serengeti creeping up on their eventual dinner. After getting over the initial shock of the cold, hard, yet wonderfully slippery feel of the substance, it's all down hill from there. The curiosity is now gone, and somehow converts into all out obsession. If given the opportunity, usually behind your back while you're wiping squished bananas out of the other kids' ear holes, your child will take bites out of stick butter like it's a Cadburry egg. They'll dive 3 knuckles deep into your Country Crock any chance they get. And you can forget about bread. Your little one will not be interested in rye or wheat delights, they're only interested in the somewhat yellow, one molecule away from plastic buttery goodness that becomes their Arc of the Covenants. Thus begins their childhood quest to acquire butter in the most inappropriate time and manor humanly possible.
Once your child reaches school age, their desire to make their own sandwiches, pack their own lunches for school, or make their own toast for breakfast "like a big girl", will begin causing as much anxiety in your life as your own teenage years. Every time I go to the refrigerator for butter, I cringe at what I'll find in that tub. Normally upon cracking the lid, I'm met with the familiar smell one would expect. It is often followed by a slight hint of something else, something wrong, out of place.
As an example, I just grabbed the tub of butter from my refrigerator. Upon opening it, I clearly smell toast, burnt toast. A quick glance and I see toast shrapnel littering the sea of butter, each crumb mocking me, taunting me. "Hey fat guy, go ahead and try, try your hardest, to get a clean swipe of this luscious butter. You know you can't. You know you're going to get me or one of my crusty brothers upon your knife, and yes, we will get stuck in your teeth and make you look like a dirty hillbilly all day."
As thought the minefield of toast crumbs isn't bad enough, there appears to be a plethora of other out of place substances that have made their way into the tub, no doubt by the hands of my 6-year-old daughter. There's a smear of mustard camouflaging itself as best it can. I see two types of peanut butter. On the left, creamy, directly in the center, a hunk of chunky with a few lovely peanuts looking like they're singing in quicksand. I see what I hope is red-ish jelly but it very well could be catsup or Kool-Aid. There is a spot that looks like it could be honey but in a house where the little people seldom cover their mouths when sneezing, I'm not taking any chances. Oh, and there's a damn penny in here. Who puts a god damn penny in the butter?
The best advise I have regarding butter is to have two tubs. One up high for the adults, and one down below that your children can reach and gross up all they want. And when it comes to stick butter, just resign to the fact that there will be times you grab a disfigured stick from the refrigerator only to discover large, very deep teeth marks in the wrapper.
Their curiosity normally begins with what we refer to in our home as the "exploratory poke". That uncertain, extended finger that slowly approaches something new much like a cheetah on the Serengeti creeping up on their eventual dinner. After getting over the initial shock of the cold, hard, yet wonderfully slippery feel of the substance, it's all down hill from there. The curiosity is now gone, and somehow converts into all out obsession. If given the opportunity, usually behind your back while you're wiping squished bananas out of the other kids' ear holes, your child will take bites out of stick butter like it's a Cadburry egg. They'll dive 3 knuckles deep into your Country Crock any chance they get. And you can forget about bread. Your little one will not be interested in rye or wheat delights, they're only interested in the somewhat yellow, one molecule away from plastic buttery goodness that becomes their Arc of the Covenants. Thus begins their childhood quest to acquire butter in the most inappropriate time and manor humanly possible.
Once your child reaches school age, their desire to make their own sandwiches, pack their own lunches for school, or make their own toast for breakfast "like a big girl", will begin causing as much anxiety in your life as your own teenage years. Every time I go to the refrigerator for butter, I cringe at what I'll find in that tub. Normally upon cracking the lid, I'm met with the familiar smell one would expect. It is often followed by a slight hint of something else, something wrong, out of place.
As an example, I just grabbed the tub of butter from my refrigerator. Upon opening it, I clearly smell toast, burnt toast. A quick glance and I see toast shrapnel littering the sea of butter, each crumb mocking me, taunting me. "Hey fat guy, go ahead and try, try your hardest, to get a clean swipe of this luscious butter. You know you can't. You know you're going to get me or one of my crusty brothers upon your knife, and yes, we will get stuck in your teeth and make you look like a dirty hillbilly all day."
As thought the minefield of toast crumbs isn't bad enough, there appears to be a plethora of other out of place substances that have made their way into the tub, no doubt by the hands of my 6-year-old daughter. There's a smear of mustard camouflaging itself as best it can. I see two types of peanut butter. On the left, creamy, directly in the center, a hunk of chunky with a few lovely peanuts looking like they're singing in quicksand. I see what I hope is red-ish jelly but it very well could be catsup or Kool-Aid. There is a spot that looks like it could be honey but in a house where the little people seldom cover their mouths when sneezing, I'm not taking any chances. Oh, and there's a damn penny in here. Who puts a god damn penny in the butter?
The best advise I have regarding butter is to have two tubs. One up high for the adults, and one down below that your children can reach and gross up all they want. And when it comes to stick butter, just resign to the fact that there will be times you grab a disfigured stick from the refrigerator only to discover large, very deep teeth marks in the wrapper.
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