Story: Mr Jack (who was sporting a mohawk for the first time in his whole life) peed on his Dad’s pants tonight right before his Dad’s piano solo at a Christmas concert. I quietly slipped out and took him to the restroom, where I discovered that not only were his pants soaked, but so were his socks. His socks. When I got him undressed I just about peed my pants laughing. His diaper (which I had put on backwards earlier, trying not to muss his newly ciofed hair)) was only on half of his tushie, and was not covering the part of his anatomy that urinates. Poor Mr Jack spent an hour or two quasi-comando. He was a ticking time bomb. Luckily for me, he was on his Dad’s lap when his little countdown clock got to zero.
Oh Mr Jack, how we love you so.
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2 responses so far ↓
How funny, guess Garth lucked out it was timer #1 that went off instead of timer #2 right?
I was the unfortunate recipient of timer #2 once when a really smart nurse took my baby’s temp, the old fashioned way, while having me hold him in my lap. If a nurse ever asks you to do that, tell them they hold the baby, you stick in the thermometer okay?
Love the mohawks by the way.
poor, poor Mr. Jack…