Tears Of A Clown

The moment all Dad’s dread has finally reared it’s head…

Falling face-first into an old Egyptian tomb and coming eye-to-eye with a deadly cobra!

That is, if YOU are Indiana Jones and the deadly cobra is…

Taking care of the baby…ON YOUR OWN!

WHAAAT???

Okay, time to put everything you learned from reading those “How to look after a tiny person that isn’t yourself” type books, into practice. (Is now a good time to reveal I was actually reading comic books disguised in a Baby Book dust jacket?)  Books I didn’t read like Rich Dad Poor Dad, which I assume is all about life before and after having kids. How to Alienate Friends and Exclude People by Dale Carnegie and his followup book, For One Second Can We Talk About Something Other Than The Baby? And not to be outdone, today’s current best seller…Fifty Shades of Brown.

Books-schmooks. I have life experience and instincts on my side...(as well as fries and onion rings).

And as my wife’s car becomes a tiny dot on the driveway horizon, I feel the cobra’s shadow looming over me.

But prepped with a blazing torch and gallons of fuel (milk) on hand, I’m all set to grab this challenge by the bullwhip and get crackin’.

And nothing could be smoother until…

He woke up.

Like a deer in headlights or Sam Neill faced against a ravenous T-Rex, I’m frozen to the spot and pray that if I don’t move, he won’t see me. And as prepared as I am, the one thing he’s not used to, is having to wait 5 minutes to be fed. Usually, when he’s hungry he has instant access to the pantry, no download lag time, no queueing at the DMV, nothing. It’s a simple FLIP-FLOP-POP system. FLIP the shirt up, FLOP the boob out and POP him on. But feeding with daddy is like interviewing via satellite. There’s a slight 5 minute delay while I heat up the bottle.

And when I’m holding him in my arms, he’s no problem. But I can’t hold the baby in one arm and shake and test the temp of the milk in the other. So, I have to put him down in his bouncer while I test the waters. And as each minute passes, so does his reaction:

(1) No rush. I don’t mind waiting.

(2) Take as long as you like daddy, I know you’re doing you’re best.

(3) I am a little peckish, if you wouldn’t mind speeding things up a bit.

(4) What’s the holdup? Don’t make me come over there.

(5) Gimme my milk, b#tch!!

And finally, when the milk is ready and I scoop him up to save the day. My heart breaks as I see before me…

His very first teardrop…

Trickling down his little face.

Awww. Our little man is growing up. He’s started producing tears and no doubt, the subtle art of…emotional manipulation.

And if you think for one second that either of us will give in and be fooled by that?…

It works every time 😉