Father & Son Time

Tonight, Harrison and I got to spend some quality "man time" together with no Heidi around. She was at a baby shower with friends and left the two of us home for the evening. I was excited to have some special bonding time with my son.

Because men like to expend energy, we started the night of bonding by participating in a number of fun, physical activities. Harrison started with about 30 minutes of jumping time in his new Johnny Jump-Up. As you can see, he loves it.



Though I enjoyed watching him and taking pictures, I quickly realized that he was doing all the exercise and my tubby self was just sitting on the floor. Bonding should never be a one-sided affair, so I decided that I would lace up my new running shoes, put Harrison in the jogger, and pound the pavement for about an hour.

I don't have any pictures of us in action, but to prove that I actually did run I took a photo of my shoes and new pedometer. In case you can't read the display, it shows 3.26 miles. It's not much, but for a budding runner who is about 50 lbs. overweight its definitely an accomplishment (especially considering that I didn't fall over dead of a heart attack).



We returned and took some time to cool down. I set him in his Bumbo and placed it right in front of me as I stretched. He had a bit of a snooze on our run and seemed to be refreshed because he was making a lot of noise and smiling as I talked to him. Our night of father/son bonding was winding to an end and I was happy with the time we'd spent together.

As I picked Harrison up to take him into his room and change into his PJs, I realized that he had one more bonding experience planned before we officially called it a night. You remember when I said earlier that men like to bond through physical activities? Well, my son reminded me that men also like to bond through the hilarity of our bodily functions. As a vivid reminder of this fact, he did this:



If you think this looks pretty benign as far a diaper blowouts go, please know that the other half of this mess was all over my hands and forearms and extended from Harrison's rear up into his hair. I tried to clean him up with baby wipes, but only succeeded in getting poop on everything within a 3-foot radius.

I quickly decided that two things needed to happen immediately. 1.) I needed to get the heck out of that room before my vomit became an added part of the mess, and 2.) I needed to get him into the tub because the only thing that would clean this kid properly was the pulsating massage setting on the shower head.

After his impromptu bath, I took my freshly-cleaned child back into the room -- which now had a foreboding green cloud billowing from the door -- to get a clean diaper, the baby lotion, and his pajamas. I snapped this photo on my way back out:



After this unplanned 30-minute interruption of frantic screaming (me), dry heaving (also me), and joyous splashing in poop-water (that would be Harrison), I finally held my son in my arms, fed him his bottle, prayed over him, kissed his sweet sleepy face, and laid him down for the night.

Sometimes the things you least expect make the best memories. I'm sure I will remember this night as long as I live.