I've created a monster.
I knew that this would happen eventually...and, if I'm right, it will probably continue to happen forever. Not that I'm upset about it...I just had to crack up that it began today.
I'll warn you in advance: there is a certain element of disgustingness to the story that is to ensue, so if you're of a weak intestinal constitution or easily offended by all things coprological, you might want to sit this one out...
...but then again, it's nowhere NEAR as bad as some of the other stuff I've had up here, so my recommendation would be to stick it out. You might get a laugh out of it!
So I would say that most people who have come to visit in the past few months have probably seen Timmy's numerous tricks (God it's sad how similar babies and puppies are!). He'll give a high-five if asked, he'll dance around to certain songs, he'll clap if you clap (and say "YAY!" that seems to be the turning point for him), and, on occasion, he'll wave aloha if you wave at him (for the record he doesn't do a Hawaiian wave, like a "Hang Loose!" kind of thing--he'll wave hello or goodbye...which is exactly what aloha means...well, sort of...I mean, tecnically, it means both hello AND goodbye...but whatever, you get my point).
These are all well and good...but they're common things that pretty much all babies do. No no--the trick that I am referring to is one that I taught the boy myself:
To break in on someone in the bathroom and to then shut the door behind him once he's in.
I will have to post a video of this on Youtube and then link it here--you've got to see it to believe it.
But it's true, as anyone who has been to the house in the past few months can attest to. It started with him getting upset when Heather would go into the bathroom. He would crawl over to the door and sit outside of it and cry. One day, she didn't shut the door entirely, so I suggested that he open the door. I don't remember if I went over and showed him or if I just motioned from afar but he pushed on the door and it opened...and the satisfied smile of limitless possibility that appeared on that boy's face confirmed for me that he will make for a very good sidekick in my future pranking endeavors.
Anyway, after a few times of him breaking in on Heather in the bathroom and her yelling at me to come and take him away, I realized that I needed to do something. Most people would assume that that something was going in and picking up Timmy and giving Heather her space...but anyone who has traveled with me knows that bathroom time is community time...and thus I decided instead of going in and taking the boy out to give Heather privacy, I'd implore him to shut the door to afford his mother with her desired solitude.
It took him a few times to catch my drift but, once he did, it was incredible. Heather would go into the bathroom, forget to shut the door, Timmy would drop whatever he was doing and rocket over there, push open the door, look at me for approval, receive said approval, crawl halfway into the bathroom, sit there, smile, and clap. It would be at this point that I would shout, "TIMMY! SHUT THE DOOR!"
And he would.
Best moments of my parenting experience so far. Sure seeing him come into this world is up there as are all the times that he's fallen asleep on me and wrapped his tiny fingers around one of mine...
...but come on, people! I trained a baby to break in on people in the bathroom AND then to shut the door!
Naturally, I've fallen victim to this on occasion...but, on an ordinary day, when I really want my privacy, I make sure the door is shut.
Today, however, was no ordinary day.
I woke up around five with some pretty wicked stomach cramps. Heather had brought the boy into the bedroom for me to watch while she did her Kenpo X and, maybe a half hour later, the cramps came back even worse. I didn't know what to do because Timmy was fast asleep but I was afraid that I was going to shit myself...and so I just lay there willing the cramps away and/or myself to sleep.
I survived that episode but later on in the day, shortly after noon, I got hit with the surprise cramps. You probably know the one that I'm talking about: that feeling of "Oh shit...if I don't get to a bathroom in the next THIRTY SECONDS I'm not going to make it."
Timmy was playing quietly on the floor and I debated about whether I should let him play there or pick him up and put him inside his pack and play. If I did the latter, he would be more secure but he would probably get really pissed off and he was fussy enough; if I left him where he was, he would still be safe but would be much happier. Plus, there was the chance that he wouldn't even notice I was gone since he was so into playing with his toys.
Like a military that trains a super-soldier too well and then falls victim to their own creation, so did I run into the bathroom. I decided not to shut the door entirely because I wanted to be able to hear Timmy.
*DISGUSTING PART IN 3...2...1...*
Whatever my body needed to get rid of, it did, in epic fashion. As the liquid coursed out of me, I felt like I was going to turn inside out...and that was when I heard Timmy.
He had stopped playing.
He was coming towards the bathroom.
"Oh shit," I thought, rather appropriately given my then-current state-of-affairs.
I heard him getting closer and closer, like some pint-sized beast in a horror movie.
Then...BOOM! The door flies open and the boy stares at me, grinning.
I wasn't sure of what to do. If I implored him to go back to playing, he might recognize my compromised position and start messing with stuff he wasn't supposed to be messing with. If I beckoned him in, though, well...that would just be gross.
I decided to leave it up to him.
He came in.
I had a lull in my emissions and so I thought I would be alright. He plopped down on the floor and shut the door.
At least he was following his training.
Then he looked up at me with a, "Sup?" look--you know, kinda like the look a stranger will give you at a bus stop when you're the only two people there and they want to start a conversation but don't really know how to?
I see him moving behind the door towards the hinge and I did my loud Daddy voice thing. He stopped and turned around. I told him no and he obliged. Then he opened the door...and shut it...and opened it again...and shut it again.
He did this like a dozen times and I was trying to figure out how I was going to extricate both him and me from this situation. I decided that my only option would be to try to shoo him out of the bathroom, get up quickly and shut the door fully, and then engage in the clean up phase of my mission.
And so I began waving and gesticulating, trying to convey to a thirteen month old baby that I wanted him to go outside of the bathroom. At first he just stared at me blankly and I was afraid that he wasn't getting it. But then, magically, he made his exit...
...and I got hit with a fierce wave of what I can describe only as uteral contractions. I doubled over and groaned as the pain shot through my midsection. I tried to think about what the hell could be causing this and then I remembered that, on Tuesday night, I had had chicken tenders rolled in a "Spicy Sweet Blaz'n Asian Sauce." Then I realized that I had gone like five friggin' times yesterday (I know, I know--too much information), so it couldn't have been the tenders--they had clearly already done their damage.
As I'm trying to sort it out, whatever type of intestinal kidney stone I was trying to pass came shooting out of me as if someone turned on a fecal faucet to maximum velocity. The putrid stink cloud that suddenly rose up nearly suffocated me...and then I heard it again.
Timmy was coming back.
And this time?
He was here to stay.
Instead of crawling, Timmy came walking into the bathroom, kicking the door open as if it was the entrance to a wild west saloon. This time he didn't even so much as glance my way--he was far too busy tending to his own affairs. He had carried some of his toys with him...and was setting them up...on the bathroom floor...while I was exploding Nagasaki A(ss)-bombs into the toilet. In between grimaces of pain--both intestinal and olfactory...good Lord it stank to high hell--I just laughed. I recognized the moment as one of those fucked up snapshots of my life that pretty much define it.
I'm so preoccupied with my own issues that I can't even yell at Timmy to take his toys and split. Then, he reached into his tiny laundry basket that we have for him just as I finally had a lull in my colonic turbulence. Once more, I employed the use of my booming Daddy voice and told him to get away from the basket, that it wasn't for him. He stopped and looked up at me.
I realized I was at an important juncture here in my negotiations with a toddler--not unlike the point at which crisis negotiators see the suspect hesitate, considering whether or not he could believe them or should believe them. I think in my case the boy was sizing me up. I clearly hadn't gotten up and, since he's a smart little guy, I'm sure he picked up on the fact that I probably wouldn't.
So there I am, on the shitter, texting Easy Ceasy about this very story (in a textual tone of disbelief, mind you), attempting to control the boy solely with the power of my voice (I was far too distracted to attempt any Jedi mind tricks). I put on my gameface and we had our little standoff...
...and I won, much to my relief. After telling him to skedaddle once more, he abandoned his toys and headed back outside. I jumped up and tried to shut the door, only to find that one of his foam square was wedged underneath. I pushed harder and it just got more stuck; the friction created by the foam against the tile was too much to overcome. I nearly had the door closed but now the front end of the foam square was curled up on the other side of the door preventing it from shutting.
And I heard it for the third time.
I dipped my head out and saw Timmy's big drooly grin as he was motoring back towards the bathroom.
I put my toe into an opening on the square and tried to tug it out from beneath the door all the while looking up at the boy bearing down upon me; it wouldn't budge. Finally, just as he neared the room for the third time, I bent over, removed the square, and slammed the door shut. Quickly, I did the best cleanup job that I could, I washed my hands, and I opened the door only to see the boy sitting there, right outside the bathroom, looking up at me quizically.
He doesn't know it yet but I've created a monster.
God save us all when he gains his self-awareness!