Being Dad

Being a father is fraught with danger…

Calling Mr. Poo April 23, 2012

My daughter inherently knows the value of all objects around her.

Missy will look at a 10c crayon, carefully roll it around and play nicely with it. Admittedly she may also eat it, but I’m sure it’s excellent roughage. A mobile phone, i-pod or similar device will be thrown about, shoved down the toilet or in my case, the worst thing that can happen to a cherished gadget.

Missy is not the greatest at nappy changes, for some reason she resists the process as if we are doing her a disservice. To counter this behaviour, we give her something to play with, be it a ball, a toy, or a crayon – if she’s hungry. Sometimes, my phone is the only thing that will keep her happy for the required time. Now that’s ok as the change table area is secure enough for a phone easily to survive a fall – if she drops it, that is. This time there was a much better way to teach me who’s the boss.

Children fool you with their tiny, clumsy hands. They con you into believing they just can’t quite co-ordinate those little stubby fingers.  While I was removing a rather full nappy, I gave Missy my phone to distract her. My angel looked me squarely in the eye and expertly smashed the phone face down, into the poo. This, of course, brought hysterical giggles from her, and a howling from me that was near primeval. Let me tell you, it is extremely difficult to clean poo from the buttons of a Blackberry. Weeks later, every time I use my phone, a whiff of baby poo wafts by.

Babies also have a weird way of interpreting their surroundings. Recently we were at a friends’ house, which happened to have a dog flap. Nothing particularly unusual about that, given the owner had a dog.  Bearing in mind there is a perfectly acceptable door you would think that… No, you wouldn’t think that at all – Missy insisted on trying to enter and exit the house via the dog-flap.  She even got quite upset when I refused (for logistical reasons) to come with her on her escape bids.

Eating is another mystery. Food, it appears to me, becomes exponentially more appealing once it has left the relative hygienic area of the plate and is squished on the floor. Once my child is released from the constraints of the high chair, any spillage becomes too tempting and must be sampled. Food that has been previously rejected as unfit for consumption becomes floor gourmet.

It’s the same for leaves, twigs, bark and at the beach, sand. A child that had refused a snack of yummy yoghurt covered raisins will happily sit down and calmly eat sand.

Why is it that food on a plate is secondary to food on the floor? Why is sand preferable to tasty treats? Why is a dog-flap better than a door?

If you know the answers, please do NOT call me, the poo phone is still too smelly.

 

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