“Mommy? Who is this ‘Mommy’ person of whom you speak?”
“Mommy Car Choo? Mommy Car Choo.”
Mini Wants His Mommy
To: anna@abdpbt .com
From: Mr. Right-Click
Subject: Mini wants his mommy
Mini has done pretty well with you being gone. He asks for you and I explain you went bye bye but are coming back on a plane. He will look a bit mystified but move on in about a minute.
But today at My Gym the impact of you being gone really hit him. From the moment he got there until story time, he needed attention from the female instructor. He followed her around asking for her to lift him up, etc. It was sad but he ended up having a good time. Abby’s parents, one other dad, and I all went to McDonald’s afterwards. He had a big breakfast, too, and then a big lunch. He went down at 1:00 pm and is ready for your return.
I hope you are having a good time and it sounds like you are. I love you and am so proud of you.
[Later that same day]
To: anna@abdpbt .com
From: Mr. Right-Click
Subject: Reverse Googling
Just wanted to let you know when I saw how you redacted the card posted today on your site of your friend I noticed the address was left on there. So I just plugged that into google and reverse looked it up and this is what I got:
[Redacted for the benefit of Nancy W. Kappes, Paralegal]
I called a left a bunch of crank messages for your friend. No, just kidding. FYI.
Anyway, I am sorry my last email made you sad. But I was getting the impression you were feeling like Mini did not care you were gone. He cares. But you have raised a self confident little man. He is a strong boy. He is sad you are gone but every time I talk about you he lights up. When he hears your voice he lights up. He loved seeing you on the computer. You will give him tons of snuggles tomorrow and all of this just makes us a stronger family. I love you and can’t wait to hear all the details of your time in the City of Big Shoulders.
to: anna@abdpbt .com
from: Mr. Right-Click
Subject: a report from the homefront
Well, Mini really let me have it tonight.
First, there was the traditional sticky, stinky poo while he was playing choo. Of course it was tough to tear him away from his work at the train table, so I had to let him stew in it for a while. Fortunately, this was around 6 pm, right before bath time, so the timing was OK, even if it was his second fecal-material-in-the-pants parade of the day. The first time, by the way, arrived conveniently right after I had ordered his breakfast at Carrows.
Fortunately, you had restocked the car with ample diapers and wipes, because in order to get him clean after that first poop, I had to go through at least 15 wipes to dislodge the crust from his butt cheeks. But we got back into the restaurant just in time for him to down his pancakes, bacon, cheese off of his eggs, and a whole lot of hash browns.
All of this reemerged tonight, by the way (see above).
So by 6 pm, he really needed his bath. We went into the bathroom, and Mini proceeded to pee all over the bath mat and the floor. It’s odd, because he used to have the good manners to wait until he got into the tub before peeing everywhere, but for the last three nights, the mere sound of water heating up leads to streaming yellow, much to Mini’s own delight.
While he was frolicking in the tub, I busied myself by mopping up his pee, and this amused him as he looked askance at my urinary diligence. The mac and cheese I had made for him (read: “microwaved”) was waiting at just the right temperature for him by the time we had completed the bath and I had frosted his anus with Butt Paste and diapered him up after the fact. Still, he claimed it was “too har,” even if it was just right. He ate like a made man, and I was a bit surprised considering he had already eaten three leftover McNuggets, his first stick of beef jerky (compliments of Mom’s care package; he loved the two balls, by the way, and of course the stickers) and some cinnamon gum care of Dadah’s idiocy.
He napped today for 3 1/2 hours so I knew it was going to be the Battle of the Bulge to get the little man down at his normal bedtime of 7:30. I put him down and rocked myself in the glider, telling him about the most famous TV “Rawrs” of all time: Dino from The Flinstones, Ed, the talking horse, Ben from BJ and the Bear, and on and on.
Eventually, I left. This didn’t go over well.
I was thinking about letting him cry it out for at least a few minutes, but then I caved. I decided to go in. And it was the Fourth of July right out of his mouth before I even reached him. It was still light out and he had opened up the blinds, and here comes the mac and cheese, and here comes the gum, and jerky, and here comes . . . what the fuck is that?
I managed to save only Bruin Bear. Meow-Meow kitty was already in Triage at that point, since Mini had decided to stick his paw into the contents of the 6 o’clock diaper (I forgot to tell you that). Now, I’m not going to sugar coat things, Lamby-Lamb was hit–but not too bad. The worst case was Buzz Buzz, who got a full load right in the face.
As for Mini, his entire torso was covered. It was not a pretty sight, even for this grizzled veteran of the baby wars. So I pulled everything off his bed and tossed it into the hamper. One full episode of Blue’s Clues later, plus a few more stories about animals driving buses while juggling balls on their way to taking a choo, and he was asleep by 8:30.
I used the spray gun at the kitchen sink to get all the vomit off the sheets and friends and then tossed them into the washer and pushed every goddamn button I could find to get the deepest, most extensive cleaning cycle I could get. That cycle should be done in three hours, at least that is what the computer on board told me.
I knew that first night was too good to be true. I gave that little man a kiss and he went right down, didn’t even need me to come in there once. So we’ll just have to wait and see what the rest of tonight holds. I would not be surprised if it’s gonna be a doozy.
Enjoy your room service for breakfast and see you back on the front tomorrow afternoon.
Love, your devoted husband,
Me: Wait. You used the sprayer from the kitchen sink? Really?