It looks like I won’t be getting my Father Of The Year award this year. It seems I blew it before the end of January, but hey, it’s my first stab at it, so better luck next year.
I was out of the running the other night, when I tried to put Calli in her swinging chair. All was well, until I put the tray down, and pinched her finger. For an hour, I felt like a sack of shit, and though I’m sure she forgot it pretty quickly, I haven’t. There was even a little red mark – horror of horrors! My baby’s been blemished! And believe you me, there was a very different pitch to her cry than the standard ‘hungry’ or ‘fussy-for-the-hell-of-it’ whimperings! I understand it happens to every parent, but why oh why can’t I do all my learning from books? I should be able to make a deal with the Powers That Be that it’s my fingers getting pinched! Then, I’ll know where the danger is, and Calli can tra-la-la through life, with nary a scrape or blister!
When I told my mom about this, she remembered that when I was a wee scamp, I got a finger caught in the chain of an excer-cycle. The wheel only went one way. That’s it; no work-out equipment in my home! For the children! (Am I that transparent?)
Then today, she got her 4-month shots. She was an admirable trooper through the first one, like “OK, shit happens, and you get one free pass.” The second one brought a much different response. I’m sure the whole office heard, and she looked like her head had been swapped with a very shrill tomato! She got her mileage out of it too, and fussed until we got home, and Andrea could present her…lunch. I get it, they cheer my up too!