Family fun

Space Balls

November 7, 2016 • By 15 1568

Michelle’s potty adventures made me realize that (fortunately) I don’t remember much from this period: my youngest are 6 and they now wipe their own mess. Speaking of which … Here’s a little something I wrote as my number two was about a month old. It went like this:

“Houston, we’ve got a problem …”

“This is Houston. Say again, please?”

“Crewmate Louis presents a level four olfactory abnormality somewhere around his back and his lower limbs. Permission requested to change his diaper.”

“Permission granted.”

“Whoa … Rectification, Houston, this is no level four incident: this is a level five! My vision is blurring, I think my nose is about to bleed, it feels like there’s been a sudden drop of oxygen, and I’m having a damn hard time following the usual dispatching-the-diaper protocol.”

“You’ve been trained, Apollo; you can do this.”

“Hold on, Houston, I have to find a way to reach and open the bedroom window. I know it’s dangerous. The risk of going into thermal shock is great, but I have no other choice. I have to take my chances with the freezing temperatures. Ugh. Okay, it’s open. Dammit, it’s really cold. Now, where was I? Oh, right, my kid. Oh my God! Collateral damages are HUGE! Michelle, tell me again about caramel hell! —”

“Apollo, we’re losing radio contact! Apollo, do you copy? Over.”

“Apollo to Houston, I copy. Situation critical in here: diaper is saturated with bilateral untimely … how do I put it? … overflown outbreak. Inform the CDC. That thing is organic, for sure. Whoa, I think maybe it’s radioactive. Oh geez, the smell … the smell is terrible. It’s like he’s wearing Eau de Toilet. Babygro bunnies contaminated. I can’t even see the bunnies anymore. The bunnies have shoved off. I repeat, bunnies have shoved off. Pajamas also perilously infected. Holy mother of f— it’s everywhere: up the middle of his back, down low on his legs, I even suspect infiltration under his arms and in his hair. How could he even stock so much shit?? Irrecoverable clothes. Permission requested to get rid of his attire in the sink and put crewmate in the tub for level six decontamination.”

“Permission granted. Be quick.”

“Decontamination of crewmate Louis with baby-care-mild (too mild) soap ongoing. Please note in the report the total lack of cooperation of the crewmate: he gesticulates in every single direction in defiance of the most basic safety standards. Operation is delicate, slippery soap prevents optimum grip, some wrinkles may not be accessible. Eww. I think I need to change the water, it seems like he’s bathing in mud. Except you and I both know it’s not…mud. Okay. Going for the sink and —”

“Apollo, we lost contact again. Come back Apollo, what’s going on?”

“Houston, the operation is a success. Crewmate decontaminated, rinsed, dried and dressed. Proceed to his sleeping area to secure much needed rest and thoroughly clean combat zone. Er, zones. Estimated time: half hour, minimum. Make it two hours, I need wine. Over.”

“Congratulations Apollo. Totally deserved. We are proud of you. Over.”

“Thank you Houston, it was only my duty. I guess? Over.”