“Hi, Daddy” Baby C shrieked excitedly as I entered my mother’s house. He was, as usual, parked in front of her computer playing games on the Nick Jr. website.
I stole some love from my niece (hey, she’s stingy with it) before sitting down on the couch to let Baby C play for a few more minutes before we left.
After a few minutes of conversing with my mother, I decided it was time to go. As I was preparing Baby C to leave, my mother asked if I could clean her computer. My mother’s not very computer savvy and is always installing free software that comes with hidden gems which infect her computer.
I decided to go ahead and take care of it immediately, otherwise I’d forget because my memory is awesome. As I sat down at her computer Baby C asked – nay, demanded – my mother put in her old Winnie the Pooh VHS tape. While I worked on the computer, Baby C was busily mimicking every move Pooh made while the tape played. His fit of contagious laughter when Pooh gets attacked by bees was especially entertaining.
At home later that night, Baby C decided he wanted some Cheetos. He seems to have an addiction to them. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so his mother told him he’d have to eat some real food if he wanted to have Cheetos.
This, obviously, did not sit well with his majesty. Baby C has placed heavy restrictions on the food that may enter his gullet. His diet, other than junk food, consists of peanut butter sandwiches, buffalo chicken, strawberries, apples, and bananas. Anything else is spat out with extreme prejudice. So when presented a choice of real food (peanut butter or chicken) he went with Cheetos, obviously.
This debate, for lack of a better term, raged for a few minutes until Superbitch decided for him. She brought a plate into the living room with half a peanut butter sandwich and a sliced apple. I accepted the plate from her and, after the threat of punishment, coaxed Baby C into my lap.
“Do you want a bite of the peanut butter or apple?” I inquired.
“NO! Cheetos!” he *reasonably countered.
*That was totally sarcasm.
“One!” I began to count (he gets punished if I get to three). He then opened his mouth and took a bite of his sandwich.
I eventually turned eating dinner into a game. I would cajole him into eating like Cookie Monster because fun. I also would let him feed me a bite for every bite he took, which he found highly entertaining. Of course, I would imitate Cookie Monster with my bites, too, which added to the hilarity.
After he had eaten half of his food, I filled a small bowl full of Cheetos for him. To say he was ecstatic would be a gross understatement. He squealed with joy and jumped up and down – pretty much how I’d react if I won the lottery.
He began eating the Cheetos like any normal being would; one at a time with his fingers. Some time later, however, he decided that he was a dog, and began eating out of the bowl like our mutt. I watched amusedly as he buried his face in his plastic bowl and devoured his remaining Cheetos like a starved animal. When he was finished, not only did he have powdered cheesy residue on his fingers, but also on his cheeks, nose, lips, and chin.
After cleaning him up in the bathroom he decided he wanted a bath. I told him he could have a bath in a few minutes, but I wanted to chill on the couch for a bit. His majesty was not pleased with this answer.
“Okay, it’s time to take a bath,” was his response to everything. He was saying it on repeat. It was like a broken record. I finally caved and took him upstairs for his bath, where he capped off the night.
After I stripped him nude, Baby C ran to the top of the staircase and yelled, “Mommy! Look! I’m nakie!” Then, to emphasize the fact that he was indeed nude, he turned around, stuck out his bare ass, and pointed to it. “See??”
I almost died laughing. It was awhile before I was fully functional again.
The rest of the evening was fairly mundane. He had his bath, had a snack, and Mommy read him a good night story.
Every day with Baby C is a new adventure. Though he has typical toddler tantrums, (tongue twister!), he’s also easily excited. His boundless enthusiasm for everything lifts my spirits. He makes me laugh often, and he gives awesome hugs. He keeps me sane and insane all at the same time. Being his father is one helluva ride and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.