Dirty Baby. Clean bath.
Things started out calm, as they always do. Monkey was napping. I was occupying myself with internet surfing or TV watching or household chores if my wife’s reading this. Then I heard the sounds of my daughter waking from her nap. Being a good father I went over to wake her and change her. Picking her up I noticed that she was wet, her pants were practically dripping. It was as though I was lifting her out of a pool and not her crib. She had wet the bed. I had forgotten to give her a new diaper before the nap. My bad.
To remedy this situation I decided that a baby bath was in order. She’s still small enough to be bathed in a small plastic baby bathtub. It sits on the counter. In hindsight, I might add precariously.
The bath itself was uneventful until its end. As I lifted my daughter out of the bath and prepared to dry her in a fresh towel, she stood up. This overturned the tub. Water spilled everywhere. A lot of water. Dirty, stale baby water.
But I could handle this. It was only water. I placed my daughter on the change table in her clean dry towel. With one hand I prevented her from rolling off. With the other I began to sop up the water.
I had it all under control. Then I looked over at my daughter lying in her clean towel and she began to pee. The pee arced. I was unaware that little girls could arc. It arced onto the clean towel. It also began to pool under her bottom. It kept pooling. She was obviously well hydrated.
Then the doorbell rang. I was expecting a courier with a package. It of course had to show up at that exact moment. I panicked. Here I was holding a urine-soaked baby in her equally soaked towel standing in dirty bathwater.
Then the phone rang. It was my wife. Calling to check in, to make sure everything was under control. That leaving her husband as the sole caretaker of her only daughter was going well. That he wasn’t standing in that tepid puddle of dirty bathwater. I let that call go to voicemail.
It was only the second day of my manternity leave. And I was in the midst of a daddy disaster of sitcom proportions. With no laugh track or quick-cut montage to save me. Thankfully it was all resolved leaving nothing but a large pile of wet laundry for my wife to deal with when she arrived home.