How a duck must feel
There’s never much going on in a house with 2 Little Monsters we are trying to teach how to be human. We find diapers in odd places, the tv remotes in toy boxes, and puddles of liquid in the hallway. I say liquid because I’m damn sure not smelling, tasting, or even touching said puddle to find out it’s origin.
Hattie gets way more freedom to roam and explore than Keenan ever did. He was the only child for a couple years. I was never a brainiac in math class, but I’m beginning to understand exponential growth by adding the attention required for the second child.
Most of my good “dad” stories start off with “Have you seen (insert one of the kid’s names) in a while?” That’s when I also discover another aspect of their creativity and imagination. And add carpet cleaning equipment to my honey-do list.
The other night I was completely wrapped up in a work thing after dinner. It involved looking back and forth between the phone and computer and my mind was fully engaged.
Jodi came in and told me she was going to get herself and Hattie into pajamas, we planned on watching a movie together after the kids were asleep. I might have said “okay” or maybe I simply grunted, I can’t be certain. I hear the shower start. Okay, I know I have time to finish!
About 45 minutes later, I’m wrapping up and putting the pretty little bow on the work. Double checking for errors and preparing to save, when Jodi walks in,
“I assumed she was with you!”
“You said you’d get her in pajamas!”
So, it turns out I didn’t hear things correctly earlier. I inadvertently agreed to do something and failed to accomplish said chore. My mind was not present at the time, and at this exact second both Jodi and I realize that our year and a half daughter has been unsupervised and QUIET for nearly an hour!
Before I can hit the save icon, Jodi is frantically searching. Just as I shut down the ‘puter I hear “Well, You can clean her up now!”
Just inside her bedroom closet is all of the essential diaper gear; wipes, desitin, baby powder, a mountain of diapers, and Vaseline. Hattie got it all out and appeared to be conducting a sophisticated comparative tasting. The Vaseline was apparently so good that you just had to have it all over your body. There were actual globs accumulated on her knees and the back of her neck.
Baby wipes are extraordinary clean up tools, they can take sharpie marks off waiting room tables. But petroleum jelly is a different kind of monster. We used about 30 of them to start the cleaning process. Meanwhile, Hattie is laughing like only a toddler or a funny brownie eater can laugh.
I decide that tubby time is better than these wipes. I run the bath and she’s super excited to get in. I am OCD about water temperature because I screwed up once and narrowly avoided boiling my son a couple years ago. So I’m holding back her energy until I get the water right.
Once she’s in, I have the Johnson & Johnson soap ready to get to work, I attempt to get a lather. It looks like the Deepwater Horizon spill of 2010. Water and soap are just beading up on her skin. It looks like the best RainX job I’ve ever seen. I might need to recruit BP to coach me how to clean this up! That thought triggers my next idea.
On the front of our dish soap is a picture of a clean happy looking duck, the assumption is it’s just been rescued from an oil spill, right? It’s well past dusk, and now Hattie is lathered in Dawn, it must work better on feathers! I now have made my daughter exponentially more slippery.
I eventually made it halfway through the movie by the way… pretty normal for me!