I'd love to say that last night was so much fun we laughed until we puked, but I'd be lying. Only one of us laughed until he puked.
Twice.
Of course, I laughed, too. Both with him and at him. I'm a great dad, I know, but there's that whole gag reflex thing and if I didn't laugh I probably would have puked. Then there'd be a much bigger mess to pretend to get sick cleaning up and, after my last post, I can't count on my wife taking pity on me anymore.
Did I mention that I'm also a great dad because I was filming the whole thing and I definitely did NOT stop when the real fun began? I mean, really, how many opportunities am I going to get for pure, unadulterated regret-introducing-your-new-girlfriend-to-your-parents blackmail material like that?
It all started when Mini-Me cried his way to the time-out corner and accidentally swallowed the piece of gum he'd been chewing, but it got into full swing at the end of dinner when he ate the last blue Easter Peep for dessert and shifted into Little-Wild-Rainforest-Boy mode. Rach didn't mind Mini-Me chowing down some dessert because she was leaving shortly to get her hair cut. I'm sure she knew what was coming, though, mom's always do. I didn't hesitate handing over that sticky mass of blue hyperactivity because I was tired of his morning response to my question:
"What do you want for breakfast, buddy?"
"I want a blue Peep, daddy!"
"Blue Peeps aren't for breakfast, buddy. Do you want some cereal?"
"No, daddy, a blue Peep would be fine."
I was really looking forward to not having any more fowl marshmallows in the house, so I served it up with glee. Boy did I make the right choice!
After finishing the Peep, Mini-Me jumped into my wife's recently vacated chair to swipe some of her chips. He was laughing the deep, full, belly laughs that turn a video viral or, if dreams and time travel could come true, would earn me a date with Bob Saget. 'The Wubster' (our 9-month-old) initially stared quizzically, but quickly began laughing in response. Sensing the beginnings of a sticky mass of preciousness, I jumped up and grabbed the camera. Boy did I make the right choice!
Mere moments into the moment, Mini-Me began cough-laughing with his mouth full of chips. Debris began to fly. 'The Wubster' looked at me in a way that said, 'I wish I knew what safety goggles were.' Danger lurked.
You see, 2.9 years ago I felt genetically generous and shared a number of traits with my first-born. He is named Mini-Me for a reason, you know. The gag reflex happens to be one of those traits. We've become accustomed, but unfortunately not yet numb, to horrendous, pukeless gagging sounds during meals, swimming lessons, and other previously serene moments. There are noises that startle you when unexpected, but THAT noise kills fainting goats. Thus, the signs of an impending eruption were there and yet the natives stubbornly stayed in their homes thinking, 'Oh, that only happens to other people who live near the base of an active toddler."
Vesuvius, Pelee, Krakatau, Mauna Loa, Mount St. Helens. All impressive in their own rights, but only Mini-Me spewed masticated blue Peep. No villages were destroyed, no humans were buried in ash, no sounds were heard around the world, no sunsets were altered by ash, but still, it was a sight to behold and I couldn't stop laughing. Probably because my wife was still around to clean-up.
"Ugh, there are grapes in there!"
"He had grapes for breakfast..."
"And green beans!"
"Lunch..."
"This is nasty."
"Did you find the gum?
"Not yet..."
Aftershocks were felt later in the evening when Mini-Me was swinging in the backyard and settled into another laughing fit that had him foaming at the mouth.
"Buddy, don't spit while you're swinging...you won't like what'll happen."
[Laughter and additional spit bubbles]
"Really, buddy..."
[Laughter, coughing...ralphing]
"Hmm...not what I meant, but I think you get the point!"
As I watched him spew again, I might have given him another push on the swing. It might have been two pushes, actually, since I couldn't stop laughing, or three as I pondered having to clean this new mess up myself. Then I remembered: we're guys, we're outside, no mom's in sight, and it's going to rain tomorrow.
As I scooped a tearful Mini-Me out of the swing and headed into the house to change him into clean PJs and settle (this term is used loosely around Mini-Me) into our nightly routine, I thought about how I should have put the camera down or stopped laughing and slowed the swing immediately...and then I remembered how important it is to document history. Plus, imagine how much fun I can have with that footage. Boy did I make the right choice!
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