Right Sand Man

After 5.5 years and 2 kids, I feel like I can claim to be a veteran parent of younger kids.   I’ve seen a lot and lived through a lot and ticked a bunch of boxes on that parental survival list: stomach viruses, 2 stomach viruses at once, fevers, strange viruses with corresponding rashes, urine on the couch, poop in the tub, ear infections and subsequent tubes, teething, preschool adjustment, now kindergarten adjustment, dance classes, tantrums, and loads of togetherness.  While I may get plenty annoyed on any given day, very little shocks me anymore.  Felix got me yesterday.

I was warned when I picked him up from school (late, since Stella and I were coming from her Daisy Scout meeting) that I might want to undress him outside when we got home.  It seems his new hobby is shoving dirt and mud and whatever else he can find down his shirt and pants when he’s on the playground.  He was on his second full set of clothes and shoes when I picked him up.  No surprise there.

When we got home, I stripped him down to his diaper in the kitchen, where it’s easier to contain and sweep.  Not much came out.  Ok, great.  I sat both kids down immediately to eat since it was late and they were starving.  After dinner was safely done and hands and faces were reasonably clean, I  took Felix into the living room to change his diaper and get into his PJs.  There must’ve been a half a cup of sand in his diaper.  There must have been a quarter cup of sand adhering to every little bit of skin -including crevices – of his naked little penis, butt, and balls.  It was like he had been dipped into sugar for the holidays.  I have to say that caught me totally off-guard.

Sand does not belong in your pants, son.

Sand does not belong in your pants, son.

At first I tried to swipe it off with a wipe.  That wasn’t happening.  It was too much and since the diaper was on the wet side, it was sticking and sticking good.  And that is not an area that you want to exfoliate in that particular fashion. I had no choice but to carry his naked sandy ass to the tub to rinse him off.  This, in turn, caused Stella to start to holler that she wanted a bath.  I had to shout calmly explain that this was an emergency response to an unhealthy amount of sand in her brother’s butt.  Felix cried – first because I was getting him wet and then because I was taking him out of the water.

We all survived and no testicles were harmed.  But sand.  I hate that stuff.  I really really hate that stuff.  It ought to be a federal offence to have sand anywhere other than a beach.

Speaking of beaches, Stella has a new mermaid decal in her room.  It's pretty sweet.

Speaking of beaches, Stella has a new mermaid decal in her room. It’s pretty sweet.



About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
This entry was posted in life, Parenting and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Right Sand Man

  1. cookie1986 says:

    I remember When Buddy was first born, and I could not believe how much shit like to stick to his balls.
    It made me really happy not to have my most sensitive bits hanging off my body like that, lol.

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