Saturday, 11 August 2007
The Sins of the Fathers (and Mothers)
This morning, just after eight o'clock, the plaintive voice of Egg finally got through to my dazed, exhausted brain as I lay in bed literally unable to open my eyes and drifting in and out of bizarre dreams. Jay lay lightly snoring beside me - dead to the world and no doubt in his 'happy place' (driving a motorcycle round India with two bikini-clad babes riding shotgun). On second thought, maybe it wasn't Egg's voice but his rising giggles which suddenly alerted me to disaster and caused me to sit upright and scream out.
Our floor was covered in socks, clothes, toys, and what looked like the entire contents of Egg's bedroom, and my initial instinct was to get annoyed, but then I suddently spotted a fat white little monster rising out of the mess....a snowman with big round blinking blue eyes, staring solemnly back at me. I strained to focus (as I wear contacts and don't have the best sight without them) on the little white creature - briefly wondering whether it was a stuffed toy - but no - it blinked and smiled back at me. I certainly wasn't dreaming, and with horror I jumped up and screamed "Jay"!!
What had happened to our sweet little baby?! Instead there was a completely white sticky little gremlin at the foot of our bed, cooing and munching on the self-same white stuff in which he was completely covered. (Yes, under Egg's watchful eye Dumpie had gotten into the 'Penaton' creme - for those childless among you, it is that dreadful white sticky stuff used on babies' bums to help get rid of rashes.)
Unfortunately, it was a nearly new can as I hate the stuff and have only used it once, under duress, for it is abominably sticky and never comes off. Apparently my infant son does not share my distaste, as he had paper-mached himself in it, and finding it pleasing, had subsequently began spooning great handfuls into his mouth and sucking contentedly.
You think Jay would be used to it by now but it turns out he is not a great fan of being woken from deep slumber with a scream. Even a well-meaning wifes' scream. I pondered this thought minutes later as I painstakingly tried to scrub the hideous white stuff off Dumps in the bath, realising after the third attempt that I'd have better luck getting bubblegum out of hair. So I heaved the sticky chicken out of the bath and attempted to smear most of it off with towels and elbow grease.
I needn't have bothered. He's just had his usual morning breakfast of baby oatmeal and blended fruits, and turns out that when hardened, it forms an almost cement-like consistancy on top of the white cream. So now my second-born resembles a corn dog.
Oh yeah, and it's only 9:36 a.m. Doesn't bode well for the day.