December 3, 2009

Like a Fountain

My father-in-law came over last night and helped me to (read "he did it") rig up the dryer.  I had bought an outlet to fit and he attached it to the wall, ran the wire and hooked everything up.  What I neglected to purchase, however, was the connecting tube for the exhaust.

Therefore, this morning, I got up early and went to Lowes' (again) to purchase the part.  I came back, installed the hose, move the dryer into place and started making breakfast.  After a nice breakfast with Sara, while Harper sat vacantly in the swing, I got ready for work.

With about 15 minutes left before I had to leave, Sara asked if I had time to change Harper's outfit.  I said sure, took her into the bedroom and started undressing her.  She has been wearing a diaper, a onesie and a full suit (complete with cummerbund and tie).  When I got her stripped, I went to change her diaper.

Last night, Sara had put her in a different type of diaper than what we had been using.  In this new one, there is a mesh lining between the baby and the absorbing pad.  I assume this is to make sure that the baby is not right up against any wetness.  Unfortunately, this mesh lining stuck to her skin, so as I was changing her, I had to peel it off of various parts of her nether regions.

With both of her ankles in my left hand, I lifted Harper slightly to wipe away traces of whatever that may have crawled up her back like a fecal version of Sir Edmund Hillary.  It was at this time, that my beautiful, perfect daughter decided to let loose a stream of matter in a perfect parabolic trajectory.

My cat-like reflexes kicked in and I managed to dodge the brown fountain.  The bed and floor were not so lucky.  I should note here that during the entire time, Harper's face was composed into an expression that can only be described as tranquil.

I thought I might have seen a slight scowl when I told Sara that, luckily, my wardrobe had avoided injury.  I assume that it's a sign that I should be a father, that I did not scream, cry, vomit, fling the baby, set fire to the soiled bed cover, pass out, pack a bag and leave, or attempt to blow my brains out.

And I still desperately love my daughter.


Bluescaptain Joe said...

This is not the usual baby blog, dude. This is hilarious. I haven't commented yet, but I wanted you to know that I do read these and enjoy them immensely.

I was reminded of that moment in "the crow" when the Crow is beating up and/or killing these guys, and one of them just starts yelling "SHIT ON ME"

Shit on you, Mr. Aion. Shit on you. :)

Justin said...

Joe, man, I miss you.

Exploding Penguin said...

Wow. That was some wonderful imagery you produced in my mind just now, hahaha. Suddenly my irish breakfast tea, complete with light cream is not looking so appealing ;)



Related Posts with Thumbnails