Monday, March 2, 2009

One Of These Things Is A Lot Like The Other

Exhibit A
This is Reagan, approximately four o'clock this afternoon. Just woke up, diaper changed, had a bite to eat. I was working on a project at the dining room table, Jordan was reading at his desk. Reagan had been playing between his room and the living room for several minutes when he got quiet. I should have known.

Instead, I (erroneously) thought "oh, he must be reading a book again, how sweet." To my credit, we had found him doing precisely that the night before. "Besides," I told myself, "there's nothing in his room he could get into anyway." Not so. I was suddenly alerted to this very fact when he came running into the living room, covered in Penaten Cream (miracle diaper cream I can only find in Canada). I yelped in surprise.

It was not only obvious that he had been having a heck of a time, but that he was now quite distressed. Reagan really doesn't like to be dirty. He can't wait to wash his hands after dinner (and generally tries beyond reason and any standard amount of patience to use a utensil instead of his fingers while he eats), and though he does like the feel of dirt and sand, he doesn't like it to stay on his hands and often stops playing to find me so that I'll wipe them off.

Let this be said: Penaten Cream is more than a chore to wash off - it's almost a nightmare. And, despite the fact that we did want to document this amazingly messy mess, Reagan was most uncooperative - he even pulled down the tissue box and started pulling tissues to rub himself down. Sweet man.

Exhibit B
Rewind some 25 years or so. This is Raelene. In the two-room cabin we grew up in (well, until I was 5 and my parents had scrimped and saved (no icecream!) to build a 'real' house not 50 yards away). The black stuff? Shoe polish. I admit, Penaten Cream is a lot less toxic and a lot less difficult to remove than shoe polish, but goodness, doesn't this look familiar? sheesh.


What you don't see is photo number 2, just after Dad had torn a strip off me. Think big tears, wailing mouth, scrunched up nose. Sad (frown). But as far as I know, I didn't get into it again. Let's hope the same holds true for Reagan (though he was mercifully spared the strip-tearing in favor of a hot bath).

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