Babies do strange things all the time. Sounds and fluids have ways of escaping their bodies at the most awkward moments.
My first exposure to the tricks babies play on their dad occurred in the hospital right after they were born. I was changing Geetle’s diaper and not really paying attention to anything besides making sure that she was actually wearing a diaper when I was done. She decided to save us a quarter and pee while she was between diapers.
She’s still a very frugal girl that likes to store leftovers in the fridge.
So, she starts peeing and it shoots across the room and sprays the wall. I watched in amazement. I did not know girls could do such a thing. I quickly realized that somebody was going to have to clean that up and I better do it before the nurse came in. What kind of dad lets their daughter pee on the wall of the hospital?
While fumbling with the diaper, the nurse walked in. She saw the mess, laughed and cleaned it up. No big deal. Apparently this type of thing happens fairly often. She showed me the trick of placing a towel over her while she was uncovered and we never looked back.
The next day, sleep deprived and still in the hospital, I was changing Pookie’s diaper. I forgot about the towel. Pookie decided that anything his sister could do he could do better. He was right in this case. Better distance, bigger mess. I was not afraid of the nurses walking in this time. I had already learned an important lesson.
Babies will catch you off guard. They have nothing better to do than sit around waiting for the perfect opportunity. Don’t worry about the spit stains on your pants that you fail to notice until you get to work. Don’t worry about the baby food that managed to get stuck on the wall. Just laugh it off and be proud of all the other times you are able to stay one step ahead of your baby and keep the fluids where they belong.
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My first child gave me a better one.
I was changing my son in his pristine white bedroom and holding him up by the legs while I reached for the cream. I heard something that sounded like a tiny shotgun and looked up to see that my son had bazooka-pooped and a ten foot square block of the bedroom wall was splattered with newborny, oily poop. Not the sticky stuff. It was flowing like a waterfall. And my diligence at holding him up had just increased the firing range.
I feel like I have most parental horror stories beat at this point.