Adam Cherepski loves being a dad, but, acknowledges that, sometimes, being a dad involves doing things you’re not particularly proud of
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I have always been the dad that has not been shy about saying how proud I am of that role, but, occasionally, there are times when this is a little more difficult to acknowledge. Sometimes, as dads, we have to do things that we are not proud of. This is one of those times.
The other night, I was giving the kids their nightly bath. This is something I usually like doing because of my not being home some nights; it gives me a little quality time with the rugrats. My wife and I used to do this together, but we have figured out that one of us can be making lunches while the other is giving bath—what a concept. After all, it does take an hour to get the kids to sleep. Well, on this fateful evening, after chasing them throughout the house, I corralled them into the bathroom. After this process, we are now running behind schedule, so this had to be quick. I began running the water, and they used the potty. Andrew gets on the toilet, pees, and hops off—all in a matter of seconds. He hops in the tub—one down. Anna, on the other hand, takes a little more time when using the bathroom. In fact, this was one of the times where Anna decided she had to, ya know, poop. No worries.
I then turn my attention to Andrew. Andrew is slightly animated, and bath time can be a little exhausting… for me. We start scrubbing as usual, when all of a sudden, what can only be described as a Raisinet ascends from the depths of the tub. Awesome. I knew at that point that I had to get the nugget of excrement out of the water before Anna knew about it. She kind of has a thing about other people’s bodily waste. I had to act quickly and in a stealth-like manner. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen, not with Andrew. The crazy thing is that he didn’t even know it had happened. I know what you are thinking—“Drain the tub, clean it with bleach, and then resume the bath, you disgusting bastard.” I did mention that it was getting late, right?
“Hey Daddy, look at that!”
It was as if he had just seen a meerkat peek its head out of a hole in the ground. Dammit. Maybe Anna didn’t hear. After all, she had other things to worry about at this point.
“Look at what, Daddy?”
Oh well.
“Nothing sweetie. Just finish up and get in the bath.”
“What is it, Daddy? What is Andrew talking about? What did he want you to look at?”
It was as if she knew. It actually reminded me of the end of the movie Seven, when Brad Pitt kept asking what was in the box, and yes, I was Morgan Freeman—I’ve always wanted to be Morgan Freeman. I digress. I guess Andrew would have to be Kevin Spacey… the evil genius. He knew that she would freak out, and I am convinced that was part of his maniacal plan the whole time.
At that instant, I did what any dad would do. I made a cup with my hands and scooped the poop. I made sure to have water between my hand and the poop. I didn’t want to be disgusting or anything. I then ran to my bathroom as quickly as possible and disposed of the floater. Upon my return, and after washing my hands with scalding water, Anna asked what was in the tub (think Brad Pitt’s voice). I told her it was some grass. Yes, that was it. Andrew had some grass on him, and I got rid of it. Done. The best part was, after all my efforts, she bought it. Disaster averted. Yes, I lied, but it was to protect my child.
Anna finished her “chore” and got in the tub. We were going to make it. Andrew, however, had other plans…
“But, Daddy, what happened to the poop that came out of my tushie?”
As dads, we are called on for many things. This is our duty. In some cases, we have to put up with our kids giving us shit. And, sometimes, we just have to take it.
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Article originally appeared on One Flew Over My House; Credit—Photo: Artondra Hall/Flickr
I thank my lucky stars that I only had to do that three times with my daughter. I didn’t enjoy ANY of those moments. 😛
Very funny piece. Thanks.
We call it “Code Brown!”
Seriously, the first time that happened to me my daughter was <1 year old and – I'll admit it – I was so freaked out! I was holding my baby above the tub while more sh!t dribbleed into the water
It is amazing how, over time, we become desensitized to poo…as well as other bodily functions. We really don’t have a choice. I will have to remember ‘Code Brown’. Thanks for reading.
I don’t think I’ll ever be desensitized to the poop. I have a horrible gag reflex that stems from childhood, and changing my daughter’s diapers was a daily exercise in brinksmanship with my gag reflex. She now poops regularly in the toilet at 3 1/2 years, and I thank God I never had to use a separate potty chair (we got a toilet seat with a built-in fold-down toddler seat).