Saturday, May 8, 2010

The Degree of Difficulty

We are very fortunate to have a baby who, much like his father, so prefers routine as to begin sobbing uncontrollably whenever things aren't delivered at the appropriate time. Consequently, we all wake up together at about 6am nowadays, and after Isaac's brain processes the sleepy faces peering into his crib, we get a big smile, some flailing arms, and then the day begins.

First thing on the agenda is the cleaning up of "old business." Isaac's bowels and kidneys are firm adherents of Parliamentary Procedure. Usually, I get the diaper changed while Shannon gets a bottle ready. TEAMWORK! However, since Isaac has recently discovered that he has feet (he approves), his first diaper of the morning has become REALLY DAMN HARD to get on. It's like trying to do origami while getting attacked by midgets. Limbs are flying everywhere, the process is frustrating beyond belief, and the end result is so embarrassing (and sometimes leaky) that Shannon's beginning to think I may be palsied.

I think this is the thing with parenting. Every damn time you get into any kind of groove as a parent, the little angel-bastard flips the f##king script on you. You win again, child. But I WILL BE BACK!!!!!


  1. Palsied???!!!! My new favorite werd!

  2. Ahh, it is a mother's dream that her son have a child just like he was. My dream has come true.

    Take that David, it will be an interesting experience filled with LSD quality flashbacks.

  3. Hey man, nothing is as good as LSD flashbacks...oh, nevermind...

  4. And its her sick enjoyment of this that makes me glad I currently have no plans to have kids, I'm kinda freaked out by all the things that she would enjoy about my suffering >.>

  5. But you should understand Tim that you were a quiet easy baby, not quite sure what happened after that...