Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Neptune's fist - a.k.a. Bath farts

As a parent, especially a father, there is no greater joy to be had then your baby, especially if it is a boy, letting one loose.  I can't explain it, and my wife fully doesn't understand, but passing gas, breaking wind, tooting, flatulence, farting, or whatever you call it, is a total guy thing.  Yes I know girls fart too, especially when pregnant, but guys take a certain pride in the stenches brewed in their bowels.  When  someone lets a home grown nasal decongestant go, guys may grimace, say rude things, cough, fake vomit and so on, but they will always try to outdo each other when the time for a ripe reckoning comes about.

A few days ago it was bath time for Jojo.  This is becoming an interesting process as he gets chunkier and the tub gets smaller....could be a relationship, but Nah!

This must be old....he fits!

As a parent of an infant you NEVER leave the baby by his/herself, even if in a tub within a tub (insert dramatic music here, preferably by Zach Hemsey).  In fact, start over reading this blog while playing this.....

While the music is blaring imagine yourself kneeling in a bathroom within an apartment (whoa....mind blown) and your baby is splashing around, giggling and getting rinsed off.  You're enjoying having a clean baby, your baby is enjoying the bath toys and warm water when all of a sudden you hear a noise.  You at first mistake this noise for the sound of wet baby skin being dragged across a wet surface while underwater.  You heed it not, unwisely.

As you commence leaning over the tub to rinse the toes it hits you.  This isn't a hit like a great idea, you forgot the roast in the oven and it might be slightly overcooked, or you just remembered to celebrate your cat's 15th birthday.  No, no.  This hits you like an I.B.S. attack brought on by the mighty fist of Neptune as it penetrates your nostrils and travels mightily through your intestines.

Baby bath farts.  Many have experienced them, but few live to tell the tales.  I am actually typing this from a body cast in a hospital.  They had to sew me up and then seal it all together in plaster of Paris in hopes my body doesn't go through a recurrence of the impact of Poseidon's power punch to the face.

My son Jojo threw a whopper of a butt bellow at me that night.  So bad that I cringed and almost left him in the tub alone.  Only my stalwart love for my son kept me by his side.....that the lack of oxygen in the air, and the fact that my heart stopped beating....but all that happened in love.  He has let out some stank bombs before but I was both amazed and humbled by this olfactory onslaught.

His mother would blame me, but I blame a combined genetic issue.  To bath time we return....

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