There Are Worse Reasons To Need A Bath

I’ve mentioned numerous times how amazingly lucky I am.  Many of you would use the word “blessed” and I’m great with that.  One of the biggest reasons is that I carry the proud title of “Daddy" for four small, but rapidly growing, people.  In ancient times “Daddy” meant literally: “The guy who makes parenting more difficult for the Mommy” and/or “He who teaches the children that bodily functions that make audible noise are the most hilarious thing that can possibly happen.”  I think those descriptions probably still apply today.

This week I got to meet my 5 pound 10 ounce nephew named Arthur, just a few hours after he made his grand appearance in a hospital in Portland.  I’m not a big guy, but I think I have shoes that have more weight and girth (good name for a rock band) than my new relative.  Holding him was super-cool, and obviously made me think about the little HTFers back home. 

I remembered the night that we were in the hospital waiting for child #1 to be born.  We were still many hours from anything requiring the attention of trained physicians happening and Traci was asleep in one of those always-comfortable hospital beds.  I went for a 2 AM stroll outside.  It was there that I realized that somewhere between junior high gym class and this moment quite a bit had happened.  You know that sudden rush where you think, “how in the heck did I get here, and can I go back now?!”  (I’m guessing Barry Obama will be thinking that in a few days)  Well, I looked up into the night sky and felt even smaller than I actually am.  A little prayer was muttered, and an answer received.  That’s all I’m gonna say about that.  A handful of hours later I was holding a little creature who was desperately in need of a bath or at least a good hosing down.  Today that same guy is 9 years old, and still requires frequent baths, but for very different reasons.

We had three more and they are all equally awesome.  Seeing new babies just reminds me of those magical days when I held my little people for the first time.  Here are a couple photos from the day our last one was born 3.5 years ago:

I’ve been called lots of things, most of them were fairly accurate, but “Daddy” is probably my favorite (unless it’s screamed at me when I turn off the Xbox so we can eat dinner).  I can find a lot to complain about right now – we all can – but it’s pretty great to remember moments like these.

I just hope I will teach them all they need to know about spontaneous belching and armpit farts.

(sorry, Traci, I know that last word is on the banned list)