Little did I know that this had been a ruse planned for quite a while. Enough of a plan that earlier this week my wife gave me a gift card as an early Father’s Day present, because she doesn’t like to hold back on giving a present to anyone once she’s bought it. It’s a little quirk of hers that drives me up the wall around two weeks before Christmas or my birthday, when she wants to try to give me my present early. But Father’s Day is more of a minor holiday, and I was more than happy to spend the gift card on some stuff I’d been wanting, so all was cool.

Then last night she sends me a text mentioning a surprise for Father’s Day, that I’d find out about today. Okay, weird…I had already gotten my present, but whatever: if my wife wants to shower me with gifts, why not let her? All it means is she loves me. Again, little did I know…

So let me pause the story here to explain to those who may not have spent more than 5 minutes with me that there are but a few things I have been a fan of my entire life. The first is family: I have always loved being part of my family, and moreover, I have always wanted to have a wife and kids. The first part of that wish was fulfilled almost ten years ago when I married my best friend, Jessie, and the second half came to fruition when we adopted our beloved Joshua just over two years ago. The second object of my fandom is Olivia Newton-John in Grease and Xanadu, again because I saw those films as a toddler and was such a fan that I can sing all the songs by heart – in Olivia’s octave. Not usually something I share with the public, but it’s a part of me I can’t deny. The third (though by no means least) is Star Wars, which I saw in theaters when I was about my son’s age, and I have been hooked ever since. The only real limiting factor on my SW geekdom has been money, and a desire for people to at least identify me for myself five minutes before realizing I am a total Star Wars fan. The kind of fan who went to a Star Wars convention in a homemade Jedi costume, complete with a lightsaber hilt made from a real Graflex flash handle. The kind of fan who specifically asked Paul Blake, the actor who played Greedo in the original Star Wars film, to sign an autograph with the post-script “Han shot first.” (Only fellow SW geeks will get any of this.) The kind of fan who bought the dual-action lightsaber for my son’s second birthday so he could wield the mini-saber and learn to dual Daddy with the big saber.

Okay, so you’re getting the picture. The Force is strong with me.

That said, my wife is not with me on this. Never-mind that she abhors Xanadu (amazingly, I married her anyway), but she’s just not a Star Wars fan. True, she lets me geek out, and she actually wants me to get a display together in our family room for all the original SW toys I have kept since childhood. But she hadn’t watched any of the original trilogy until the Special Editions came out. Last week, I asked her off-handedly if she would ever let me build a life-sized R2-D2, and not only did she ask “What would you do with a life-sized R2-D2?” but also had to confirm “He’s the little blue one, right?” I was dumbfounded…this was stuff I learned before my ABCs!

Flash back to this afternoon, when I bring Josh back home to Mama. We come in, and my wife tells us both to come sit on the couch, while she shows me the surprise. I’m really glad she had me sit down, because I probably would have fainted. She has me close my eyes, then open them a few seconds later, to see this:

I was looking for evidence this was a fake tattoo.

WOW. Crossed lightsabers with Josh’s and my names. On her arm. I couldn’t believe it…it had to be fake, like she had gone to a face-painter or something. But she insisted it was real. Wow. Here’s a detail from the above photo:

Yup, it's real, alright.

Aside from some shock and mild disappointment that she had sprung on me this kind of permanent (and, let’s face it, not un-expensive) addition to her body, I was completely blown away that she would do such a thing–especially an undeniable Star Wars reference in a permanent homage to me and our son!

It takes a special woman not only to love such a fervent Star Wars fan like me (and allow our son to become trained in the ways of the Force, as well), but also go the extra mile to do this:

This is true love.

What a fantastic gift! I can never, EVER question this woman’s undying, unconditional love for me. I love you, my darling wife.

(Warning to those with an aversion to reading about bodily functions: you’re way too sensitive. Regardless, this post may shock your delicate sensibilities. For those who have a sense of humor, keep reading.)

What I didn’t realize until this morning is that I had to do some work to install the stove due to the fact that the old one was hard-wired in. On my trip to take Baby Josh to the hardware store to get the necessary parts, on the way back I decided to get some Taco Bell for the two of us. (I ordered a chicken soft taco for the little one and they gave me a beef hard taco, but we made do.) After lunch, Josh was messy enough from the taco that I stripped him to his diaper, did a once-over with some wipes and stood him in his playpen within sight of my pending electrician’s duties in the kitchen.

In retrospect, I can see that this is the point where all was lost.

At previous opportunities Josh has demonstrated the ability to undo a velcro strap on his diaper when that’s all he’s wearing. But his mommy or I have always been there to catch him before he gets the second strap undone. On this particular afternoon, Josh had a good ten minutes of listening to his father mess with the wiring (and get it fully completed and tested, mind you) in order to complete a project of his own. I had no reason to suspect anything since Josh was making the usual play noises in the playpen. Every parent knows that it’s only when they’re quiet that you have to worry, right?

Wrong.

I was all done with my project and walked up to the playpen to grab Josh so that I could get him dressed and ready for the kids area at the gym, as I had an appointment with a trainer for my complimentary new member session–and there was to be no more appointments today. For the next hour and a half I would be tasked with unwreaking what my infant son had wrought.

My son was looking up and smiling at me, because he was offering me a present. It was his diaper, completely off and dangling from his little hand. I took it for the least terrible thing that could have happened: Josh obviously had to much time to himself and had undone his diaper, and I was very fortunate that he hadn’t whizzed all over everything. All was right with the world. I took the diaper from him and felt it was heavy, so I checked it as a force of habit, and notice there was a slight brown streak visible.

Just a streak. There’s never just a streak. A diaper is either poop-free or it isn’t.

I look up from the soaked and streaked diaper into my son’s delighted, smiling face. Then I glance behind him to another, more substantial brown streak that is suspended in the webbing at the side of the playpen. Then down to the two-foot-long brown streak across the padded floor of the playpen, and back up to my son’s beaming, angelic smile with a grin two miles wide.

Now I can look back and tell you: Man, I love this kid! Although, truth be told, at the moment I wasn’t so sure how I felt about anything.

Uncertain as to the next course of action, I studied Josh for a moment and noticed a fleck of poop on his hand. In a flash, I knew what had to be done. I ran to the bathroom and started a bubble bath, and went and grabbed Josh. His backside was completely covered. After his impromptu bath (with a little shower-head work to get the more stubborn bits) I dressed him (fully, this time!) and put him in his crib to fuss (couldn’t be helped at this point) whilst I returned to the scene of the crime to formulate the next step of my plan. I called the gym to reschedule my appointment and turned to the best, purest source of de-pooping I could think of: baby wipes. I grabbed the end of the old package and a full new one and started going to town. After using about ten of these to get the bigger chunks up, I remembered that we had antimicrobial wipes under the kitchen sink. I set about sanitizing the webbing and padding and making sure that the whole playpen was good enough to eat off of.

So the moral of the story is: don’t overschedule your day off.

CUTE
Originally uploaded by metamorphilia.

Eligible presidential candidate in 2044. Vote early, vote often!

This is my first attempt at a propaganda poster. I hope you like it.

I tried to use my cell phone as bait to get Joshua to take his first steps. Does he start walking? Watch and find out!

Dog tired!
Originally uploaded by metamorphilia.

We need a home.

On the other hand, robotic dinosaurs are always cool.

Shhh!
Originally uploaded by metamorphilia.

Don’t wake the baby!

Freaky, yeah, I know.  Well, we were watching that on The Soup a few nights ago, and Jessie didn’t get to see it, she just heard the weirdness from her vantage point in the other room. She asked what it was, and I told her: “It’s some freaky, freaky dog. At least I think it’s a dog.”

Well, last night they replayed that episode, and baby Joshua and I were playin gon the living room floor, and his mom was on the sofa. When the dog came on, Josh looked at the TV and then started freaking out like he was scared of it (not that I can blame him), so scared that when I turned him around to face me instead of the TV he shrieked when he saw me, and it took probably 5 minutes to calm him down. The dog came back on the TV a few minutes later, so we had to turn it off and soothe the baby all over again. Poor guy! This is the first time he’s ever acted frightened of something other than just his parents leaving the room, so it was a new experience for us.

Well, Jessie & I were debating whether it was the noise or the image of the dog that scared Josh so much, so Jessie looked it up on YouTube when Josh was not able to see the screen. Guess what? He got scared again, and his Mommy actually had to change his diaper after that!