We decided last week
that we were going to go to the Mesa High School football game. We have players
to cheer for and thought it would be a good family adventure. We planned on
taking all the kids and doing our best to stay until half time. We geared up
mentally all week for it. Bringing any of our babies out past bedtime isn’t something we
normally do, but Ruby is so easy going and we already planned on only making it
to half time.
The kids were doing
great. They were enjoying being there and we were having fun. Frank and I are
easily impressed with ourselves when we break the norm and take the kids out at night.
After the standard issue incidents had occurred i.e.; Orson dancing around
first real cute like then real screaming scene like saying he had to go pee as
soon as we climbed our way into the bleachers, then going and waiting in the concessions
line and re-climbing our way into the bleachers we had made it through the
first six minutes of the first quarter of the football game.
Just as I had turned
back around from asking the group of boys sitting behind us not to use the four
letter word they kept saying over and over again my eye caught something
strange on the leg of Frank’s jeans. It was poop. Kind of a lot of it. Ruby,
who he was holding, had silently and happily had a diaper blowout.
Clearly Frank had
not noticed that this had happened. The kids were all sitting on the bleacher
in front of us and they hadn’t noticed it, thank goodness because they would
have freaked out. I really hoped that the boys behind us who I had just
finished having a staring competition with and asked them to stop cursing hadn’t
noticed it. My plan of action was to remain calm and get Frank’s attention
before he stuck his elbow in it. I realized it was vital also to remain calm
and confident as I got his attention so that he would not freak out about the medium
to large sized mound of Ruby poo on his pants and assure him with my calmness
that although I did not have a plan of action for this particular problem I
would soon make and carry out one.
Wet wipes were
obtained. The pile of poo on the Dad jeans was removed. I cannot however say
the same thing for the residual on Frank’s white t-shirt. Ruby’s bum was then
placed in a blanket I had with me in the diaper bag so as to prevent more poo
from spreading onto me as I found a place to make her wardrobe change. A quiet
and surprisingly secluded corner of grass was found to fix Ruby’s diaper and
for me to take some time to decide if I wanted to save the poopy blanket or
not.
I returned to the
bleachers with a freshened baby to find that we had made it through the popcorn
and drink’s from the concession trip, the group of boys behind us were now
making hilarious jokes with close sounding replacement words for the four
letter words I had asked them not to use, and Frank and I both totally agreed
that we had successfully made it through the first quarter and a half of the
football game and were ready to go home.
Although we did not
make it all the way to half time as planned, it was still high fives all
around. Absolutely still considered a very successful family event. Frank was
stellar in his reaction to being pooped on. The kids really did behave well and
had a nice time. We got home safely and had one more experience for the shelf
to give us courage to go out past bedtime again sometime.
Other Titles
Considered For This Post : The Brown Mark of Fatherhood, Hey Frank Don’t Freak
Out, Blowout Off the Field, The Day Dad Learned Not To Bounce the Baby
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