A Parent's Post-Traumatic Stress

While I was recently changing my son John's diaper, he farted in my face. Twice. With no diaper on. I think I have post-traumatic stress.

It reminded me of Alfred Hitchcock's famous quote: "There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it."

However, with all due respect to Mr. Hitchcock, he never changed John's diaper.

I fear Cleaning Day at our house. Belle used to really protest when I'd ask her to clean up her room so I could vacuum the floor, but now she does it without prompting. In fact, last Cleaning Day, Belle came up with a song:

"Today's the day for Cleaning Day
Today's the day for showing respect."

I thought, Cool, nice start.

But then her song turned south. She opened the patio door, stepped out and sang at the top of her lungs:

"Wake up neighbors! It's Cleaning Day.
Come on over and clean my house!"

Those who have read this blog know Johnny, 3, is taller and heavier than his sister Belle, 4. He always says, “Belle, I’ll give you a gentle hug.” Except, for him, giving Belle a "gentle hug" is a little like a "gentle bombing."

Johnny negotiates like a used-care salesman: You try to make him a great offer, but he won’t listen until you start to leave.

John has taken to kissing girls. Before he does, he likes to say, "I'm gonna put my lips on you." Hey, at least he asks for consent.

Often while getting ready for bed, Johnny strips naked and dances like a sumo wrestler. He tries to say, “I've got nothing on my privates,” but instead says: “I've got nothing on my pirate!”

With times like these, it’s great to get nice notes from your kids. Belle recently made a card for my 10th wedding anniversary.

She said, “I love you no matter what I do, no matter what you do, even when I go to Heaven or the hospital. I love you Mom & Dad!”

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