Travel Dad Blog #2 (literally she did #2 on me)

Travel Dad Blog #2 (literally she did #2 on me)

Posted on December 7, 2018 by Kevin Knight

So today is Thursday, December 6th, 2018 at 5:42 pm… Baby Knight Knight is now 2 months old, and sound asleep in the bassinet (now swing thingy by the time I finished typing).  Not sure for how long, so let’s jump right in before she wakes up…

So why is she so sound asleep you ask!?  SHE JUST SHAT ON ME!  This was quite possibly the most diabolical, wicked and unholy thing that has ever happened to me in life, and I’m almost 40!  She literally unloaded what felt like a gallon of poop in my lap.

I was just sitting there minding my business, burping her like they taught me in the nursery (upright, lean her forward, hand on chin, firm pats on the back, etc… at this point, I’m like the Burp Whisperer)  Anyway, everything was all good; I’m watching TV, she’s looking in the “direction” of the TV… and then bam…

I get this warm sensation on my left hand (my chin holding hand).  Bingo, spit-up… no biggie.  I smiled, looked at her, and was like, “you’ve got the warmest little body fluids ever…”  I thought to myself, I’ll probably write about that someday, but not really.  Then, she backdoored it (no pun intended…yet) with a little baby flatulence.  That’s nothing new though, she’s pretty regular if you know what I mean.  But then, like, ummm, how do I explain this… Ok…

I’ve never been in an earthquake, but I’d imagine it goes something like this: It’s real calm, you’re minding your business, birds are chirping, text messages are being ignored… and then; there’s a little tremor with the simultaneous sounds of stuff rattling and shaking, and then BOOM, shit hits the fan (no pun intended…yet), and you’re holding on for dear life trying to save yourself, then you help look for survivors once you’re in the clear!

Well sticking with the earthquake theme, the “tremor” was Baby blowing the sides out of her diaper like a natural gas leak detonating a house; the stuff “rattling” ferociously was my right thigh and her butt cheeks; the “poop hitting the fan,” was LITERALLY her poop oozing on to my favorite Urban Camp Weekend shorts causing the warmest sensation I’ve had on my thigh since putting Icy Hot on during track practice a couple of decades ago… imagine an explosion followed up by lava slowly percolating down your leg…

yup… this is when it got dicey.  This is when real decisions are made!  This is the fork in the road… the rubber meeting the road… the… you get the point…

Because naturally, Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior designed the human body to naturally react in a self-preserving way.  Our bodies are built to react to danger… Flinch, blink, duck, etc… it’s automatic.  Kinda like when I have her in this pouch, and I bend over, and she grabs me because she thinks she’s about to fall…

So because the Lord designed my body like the rest of the world, it’s only natural that I react how mother Mary would have wanted me to… save myself, a.k.a. THROW BABY!  (let’s pause)

Fortunately for Baby, I was frozen in time, like, maybe I’m dreaming… Maybe, my 20/20 vision and sense of feeling in the lower quadrants of my body are failing me in my old age.  I’ve been wrong many times in my life, but never have I hoped and prayed so fast in my life to be wrong within milliseconds of an incident.  Nope… I was right… she SHAT on me… and the couch, and when I stand up, the floor! (WARNING, DON’T CLICK ON THE PIC… IT ONLY GETS WORSE)

Anyway… So who’s fault was it?  Probably the breast milk provider, a.k.a., Thunder Boobs.  Whatever Thunder Boobs ate and processed through her breasts, clearly and scientifically doesn’t mix well with Baby’s stomach.  Thunder Boobs has clearly discovered the formula for steroids and hgh; Baby’s butt muscles are on Schwarzernegger-ian strength at the moment.  The force of which her poop came out can only be described as similar to an industrial strength leaf blower.

Anyway… let’s talk clean up…

Option 1. Throw everything and everyone away (apparently that’s frowned upon by Child Protective Services, Thunder Boobs, Grandparents, and friends and family)

Option 2. Gather your thoughts, waddle with my little poop dispenser (a.k.a. Baby) to the restroom, try not to track her personal Reese’s Pieces throughout the place, take off my britches, throw them in the tub, run back to the couch naked and clean the couch before the Reese’s start to settle in, run back to the bathroom to make sure Baby is still being Baby, then run back and throw a towel on the floor, then run to the kitchen to grab a shopping bag to dispose of errything, etc!  You know what also sucks… these onesies with the three little buttons on the crotch forcing you to dumpster dive in the middle of crapville to release them; only to try and get Baby out of this contraption without getting chocolate pudding on her dome! (scissors next time)

Anyway, all is well now.  My little poop dispenser is cleaner than a whistle!  I bathed all the baby mud off of her, and she’s back to being huggable.

With that being said, you’re not getting anything for Christmas… I’m going to re-wrap your baby shower gifts, and the tree will be Lit Lit Literally!  You’ll never know until you’re old enough to read this anyway.  And your birthday gifts for next year will probably be bootlegged in a similar fashion… Whatever your Godfather Al buys you, I’m going to say it’s from me! (that’s him holding you below; he was scared to walk too fast with you until I showed him your muscle neck; you’ve been holding your head up from Day 1! Baby strong!)

Below is me taking you to the mall; don’t get used to it, it’s a waste of money and we have college or your own business to save for…

Below: This is us later that day eating some charbroiled oysters, fish and all kind of other stuff… You can get used to this though…

That’s it…

Daddy still Loves you Baby… you’re a #PieceOfCake (I’m just not a fan of your crumbs)