Well, thanks to, I guess, exhaustion, and a Fisher Price Aquarium Wonders automatic baby swing, Daddy and Sofie got five straight hours of sleep out in our living room this morning. I can’t tell you . . .
It brought to mind, this morning, the BTO song much-adapted:
Any sleep is good sleep
So I took what I could get
Yes I took what I could get
Of course, that leaves the (adapted) lines which follow:
And she looked at me with those big blue eyes and said:
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet
D-d-d-daddy you just ain’t seen nothin’ yet”
And I’m going to stop now, because even with the change in lyrics and meaning, this brings up disturbing father-thoughts I shouldn’t have to wrestle with for another sixteen years. Heck, twenty years.
But lack of sleep is only one of those things which can waylay you out of nowhere. There are other little experiences one is never quite prepared for. Take the ubiquitous diaper change. Of course, although I now know that changing poopy diapers is job one, I wasn’t prepared for a little episode a few days ago. I mean, I knew that if we had a little boy, we’d have had to have been careful of the “Fire Hydrant Surprise” during diaper changes. But, well, we’ll call this “Sofie and the Projectile Pooping Adventure.”
So here I am, doing my fatherly duty, I’ve got the old diaper off, and immediately scooted the new diaper underneath. I was using the baby wipes to healthy and cleanly effect. When with no warning–I mean, no heads swiveling on necks, no passing gas–wham! This brownish yellow stream comes forth from the nether regions of my daughter, up over the strategically placed diaper and splats all over the front of the plastic baby wipes container. I was in shock. What just happened? I clean up as best I can (new diaper under tush first, clean baby wipe dispenser exterior, lay down burp rags over mess), and dang if it wasn’t like “Ol’ Faithful” once again. This time I had the presence of mind to cover her up with the diaper. When it was all said and done, a record four diapers had been used (including the final clean one).
I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I mean, what sort of psi was locked up in my little girl that would send out this forceful poopy stream? I mean, if I had just squeezed her a little bit I really think she could have taken out the nursery room window. Convert that all to torque and my baby would have quite literally been turbo-charged.
Anyway, when I left to teach this morning (I’m at work now), my little Princess and her momma the Queen, were sleeping. (Me, I’m the Court Jester.) And I sure felt better. (Thanks go to Robert, Tripp, and Christopher for yesterday’s encouragement.)