I talk with Mayonnaise quite a bit. Well, I talk to him. And getting even more precise, I sing to him. For whatever reason, I’ve adopted a Randy Newman-esque, sing-whatever-I-would-normaly-say for a good amount of our interactions. Can’t explain it, but it’s what I do and he enjoys it. I’m secretly afraid that he’ll mistake my godawful voice for the way singing is supposed to sound and will end up on American Idol’s gag reel one day but, well, dem’s da breaks.
He has recently reached the stage where he enjoys diaper changes… or at least the part that involves his penis being stimulated. Which happens, I guess. I mean, that’s how our bodies work, right? Well, during one diaper change, he made a BIG fuss, as if something was really wrong, only to begin immediately smiling and cooing as I cleaned around his penis. “You little goof. You just tricked me into playing with your penis!” I thought. Which led to me singing… about how it was okay to enjoy having your penis played with but it was certainly not okay to trick people into doing so… and that when he’s older (MUCH older), he is free to pursue penis play with whomever he likes… but he absolutely must not trick them into it… or god forbid, force them into it!
Hey, I never said I was a GOOD dad. But I’m doing the best I can.
As I closed up his diaper, I realized I sort of just had the “Don’t be that guy” talk with him. At 4 months old. Which is probably too early. But, hey, should he one day find himself about to do something he shouldn’t with his penis and an image flashes through his mind of a younger, bearded version of his father singing about not tricking or forcing people into playing with his penis… mission accomplished.
Alright… I’ve bared my soul of an absurd parenting story. What do YOU all got?