Dad Entry #37

I may have mentioned this before, but I’m aware that Michael has likely started to accumulate lifelong memories. Or at least memories that will exist until he’s 33, as I am 33 and I still possess – or can recall – distinct memories of the timeframe that Michael is in (I remember my kindergarten days when we lived in Milwaukee; and I have some recollection of preschool and living in Davenport before that). So maybe I can’t speak for the ability to keep or recall these oldest of memories past my current age, like, say, when I’m 80; but from my own experience, I’m pretty certain that God has pressed the ‘record’ button inside of Michael’s head. And that means we need to start putting some awesome memories in there! I think we’re doing okay, so far. Sara is terrific about keeping the kids busy and engaged in activities like art, playing, swimming, running around with friends, going to the park, visiting memorable places like the zoo, birthday parties, etc. And I join and play with them as much as possible; we bike, play catch, hit balls, wrestle, build spaceships with legos, and fight with ‘light sabers’. Memories, though, might be tied to specific events, holidays, or traumas. Maybe Michael will remember his first visit to the Shedd Aquarium. Or the wound and stitches in his eyebrow. Or the awesome orca costume Sara made for him last Halloween. Or his Anakin Skywalker costume he’ll wear this year.

Megan pooped all over the house last night. At least it seemed that way. She did it right before I needed to leave her with the sitter (Emily) to go to my basketball game. Sara was at a Madonna concert with Gretchen. Sara has already done this cleanup drill several times (and God bless her; it isn’t fun). But this was my first. Megan made it to her portable potty seat and most of her poop was in there (a scary, huge amount, actually). I looked at Megan with concern but she was beaming a smile. No wonder, it must’ve felt great to rid herself of that. Then I noticed bits and smudges of poop on the floor. I had to clean her undies and her tights, her bottom was a mess too, and then a big portion of the floor because – of course – she stepped in some of it and tracked it around before I stopped her, told her softly “DON’T MOVE!”, undressed her, and cleaned her up. I was upstairs getting my shorts for bball on when it happened and I was summoned back to the kitchen where her little ‘toilet’ was. But Meggie did okay on her own; she got to her potty seat and I don’t think Emily knew exactly how to help. So, despite the mess, we celebrated! Good job, Meggie! Five more chocolate chips for you! That’s her reward for every ‘big girl potty’.

Megan almost exclusively uses the toilet now, or her little portable potty. She’s practically an adult! I’m sad. But no diapers is cool. And I’ve enjoyed taking Megan into public restrooms lately. Thankfully, she’s only done ‘pee-pee’ so far with me. We haven’t done a ‘number two’ – as my dad would say – in public yet. It’s about the cutest thing in the world, though, sitting Megan down and holding her so she won’t fall into the toilet after I’ve cleaned and rubbed the seat so furiously with toilet paper that I’ve removed its glossy finish. Proof that cheap TP is like sandpaper. Actually, I rub the seat until I see a wisp of smoke. Then I decide it’s clean enough for Megan so I help pull her pants down and I lift her onto it (she doesn’t need much seat space for her little bottom). Yes, Megan does her business with a smile, a bright-eyed, proud smile! I know she’s done when the tinkling stops but I wait for her to say, “I did it, Daddy.” Then I lift her off, set her down on her feet again, help her pull her pants or tights back up, untwist any uncooperative waistbands, then smooth her dress or put her back together in whatever way necessary. And I do this while making sure she refrains from touching ANYTHING! Last night we had a close call. Sort of. Megan saw the pink ‘puck’ in the restaurant urinal. I think everyone knows the cleaner / freshener ‘puck’ or urinal cake I’m referring too. Anyway, it was pink and Megan noticed it and started to lift an arm while taking a step toward it. I just about tackled her even though I was so close I could easily prevent what I was afraid of. Yeah, I sort of pounced on her like the Secret Service must do if the President is threatened and they need to instantly shield or move him. Then I calmly reiterated to her that we really don’t want to touch anything nearby – or in! – the urinal. Even if it’s pink.