Carrying a 2 Year Old on Your Shoulders is Always a Risky Proposition.

So my wife is out of town for a week and Dad is doing it all. “Organization is the key.” I tell her. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Date: 8/25/2010
Time: 8:13AM Eastern Standard Time
Ego Level: High

I just dropped off 5 kids at 3 different schools and delivered all packages on time and on line. Now it’s off to the pediatrician to fill out paper work to get their medical records switched from Omaha to Greenville. My companion: Jude Luby, Age: 2, AKA: Judo Chop. My side kick, perched on my shoulders, kicking his bare feet, is putting out an aura of cute that could drop a charging rhino at 50 feet. We enter the facility.

Time: 8:20AM EST
Ego Level: Extremely High

As nurses and other women pass me they sigh and give us a look that says, “What an awesome daddy and cute little boy.” I can hear their votes for father of the year in every “Good Morning” and “Awwwwe”. The S on my chest is now becoming visible and if you listen carefully you can hear theme music being played as we stride down the corridor.

Time: 8:31AM EST
Ego Level: Super Hero Status

I approach the desk and request the forms to have my children’s records bounced off a satellite and delivered here in seconds. The woman in the waiting room practically swoons when she sees me. “I’ll just have to.... What? Fax number no I don’t.... Hmmm? Social Security numbers? Well I have their insurance cards... No? OK well I’ll take these home and bring them back this afternoon.” The woman in the waiting room is now reading a magazine deliberately.

Time: 8:35AM EST
Ego Level: Slightly Below Average Dad Status

“OK Jude, up we go. Daddy has to go back home to fill these out.” The woman is now giving me a disinterested, “go figures” look. I lift my little buddy up and put him on my shoulders. The pressure acts as a sort of urine juicer and the now full diaper starts to drain its contents down my neck and shoulders. “Really?”

Time: 8:37AM EST
Ego Level: Low (like white trash low)

Now as I’m exiting the building the looks I get now are a mix of disgust and scorn. Looks that say, “That’s what you get for knocking someone up, pal.” Or “I sure hope you’re the bungling uncle for that child’s sake” And “For God’s sake, get some shoes on that baby.” We finally get to the van and of course there aren’t any diapers there. I put him in his seat and he pulls out his pacifier and says, “It’s not our fault dad.”

In that instance, my little Buddha with a gee-gee, made everything all right.

Time: 8:40AM EST
Ego Level: Not bad at all.