Last Sunday, on the morning of Father’s Day, Timothy had a very dirty diaper and lived up to my last blog entry by bringing his hands in to help with the diaper clean up. That diaper was so dirty that we decided to put him in the bath for a final clean off. He was in a great mood exiting from his short bath, and our naked red head walked into his room and motioned to me to take a seat in the rocking chair and replied with an enthusiastic ‘yesssssss’ when asked if he wanted to read some books. We read some of his little books and he was being quite the charmer, and then he gently grabbed my right arm, brought it up and bit down hard on my pointer finger like it was a hot dog at the ball park.
I quickly set him down on the floor, said ‘no bite’ and walked out of the room to show Laura the revised version of my right pointer.
When we walked back into Timothy’s room 30 seconds later, he had already found a way to top the bite by peeing on the floor of his room.
What’s more, he had positioned himself so that he peed only on his red shag carpet and missed the hardwood floor entirely. Impressive.
Long ago, when I was a little kid myself, I asked my mom why there was a Mother’s Day and a Father’s Day, but there was no ‘Kids’ Day’, to which my mom didn’t miss a beat, replying, ‘Every day is Kids’ Day’.
Happy Kids’ Day, Timothy.