waking up8:00 a.m. Tues., June 23, 2009. On Sunday evening I returned to Lincoln to resume my duties as Leo's babysitter.
Monday morning I received my welcome from the boy in the form of a big, wet, messy, green poop.
I sat erect with my knees and thighs together and Leo lay on his back in the crease between them and looked up at me, playing, smiling, and grinning.
But several suspicious noises issued from the baby boy's nether region and I suspected that this time they were not just farts.
His father was about ready to leave for work.
"I'll change him before I leave," he said.
He lifted Leo from my lap and carried him into the bedroom and laid him on his changing table.
"Whoa!"
From the bedroom I heard several exclamations.
"Agh!"
Not only had Leo's diaper been soaked with green pea soup, the poop had soiled his outfit, which acted as a wick, and even his father's shirt, too, during Leo's brief transport.
"No!"
Then when I stood to fetch myself another cup of strong, black coffee from the kitchen I noticed three damp spots on me, two at the hem of my tee shirt, one on my shorts. Leo had leaked and left a little green poop soup on me, too.
"Uh oh."
By eight o'clock Leo was once more clean, dry, diapered, dressed, and happy, and his father and I had changed our soiled clothes. There was a small, stinky load in the washer in the basement.
The rest of my duty that day was uneventful.
As usual when Leo's mother got home from work at five I took my five-mile walk on the nearby pedestrian trail. I lugged an extra jug of water along with me and walked a tad slower than my normal pace.
It was humid and the temperature was 95, a dangerous combination the weatherman said.
By the time I arrived back at my daughter's home seventy-five minutes later the small hand towel I carry, my visor, head band, shirt, shorts, and socks were drenched with sweat.
I set down my water jugs, cell phone, and house key and sat at the picnic table on the patio to remove most of my wet things before I went inside, first for a cold shower to lower my body temperature and then a warm shower to clean up.
My daughter walked out to get the mail and to take a look at me.
"Oh my god!"
She laughed.
"It was a test!" I said.
I wrung out my sopping wet tee shirt. Sweat splashed onto the concrete. After I had cooled down and cleaned up and had dinner, in the living room Leo entertained the three of us, plus my wife on video chat, till bedtime.
My annoying restless leg was at peace last night, thank god, and I don't remember any nightmares. This morning Leo is napping in his chair as I type my post and his parents are sipping coffee and reading the morning paper.
Leo is so cute when he wakes and stretches.
He arches his back, he curls his legs way up to his chest just as far as they'll go, he clenches his fists and raises his hands and arms above his head, he squints his eyes, and he purses his mouth till his lips are fat and the tip of his tiny tongue peeks out, his face turns red, he grunts, he wrestles from side to side, and then—ah!—he stretches, he stretches, he stretches, he stretches, he stretches—
He stretches!
Ah!
He releases and relaxes.
Oh!
Leo sees his father! Leo smiles. He turns his head and sees his mother. Oh! Leo smiles. He sees me. Oh! Leo smiles.
Oh!
May all beings embody the great way, resolving to awaken.
Monday morning I received my welcome from the boy in the form of a big, wet, messy, green poop.
I sat erect with my knees and thighs together and Leo lay on his back in the crease between them and looked up at me, playing, smiling, and grinning.
But several suspicious noises issued from the baby boy's nether region and I suspected that this time they were not just farts.
His father was about ready to leave for work.
"I'll change him before I leave," he said.
He lifted Leo from my lap and carried him into the bedroom and laid him on his changing table.
"Whoa!"
From the bedroom I heard several exclamations.
"Agh!"
Not only had Leo's diaper been soaked with green pea soup, the poop had soiled his outfit, which acted as a wick, and even his father's shirt, too, during Leo's brief transport.
"No!"
Then when I stood to fetch myself another cup of strong, black coffee from the kitchen I noticed three damp spots on me, two at the hem of my tee shirt, one on my shorts. Leo had leaked and left a little green poop soup on me, too.
"Uh oh."
By eight o'clock Leo was once more clean, dry, diapered, dressed, and happy, and his father and I had changed our soiled clothes. There was a small, stinky load in the washer in the basement.
The rest of my duty that day was uneventful.
As usual when Leo's mother got home from work at five I took my five-mile walk on the nearby pedestrian trail. I lugged an extra jug of water along with me and walked a tad slower than my normal pace.
It was humid and the temperature was 95, a dangerous combination the weatherman said.
By the time I arrived back at my daughter's home seventy-five minutes later the small hand towel I carry, my visor, head band, shirt, shorts, and socks were drenched with sweat.
I set down my water jugs, cell phone, and house key and sat at the picnic table on the patio to remove most of my wet things before I went inside, first for a cold shower to lower my body temperature and then a warm shower to clean up.
My daughter walked out to get the mail and to take a look at me.
"Oh my god!"
She laughed.
"It was a test!" I said.
I wrung out my sopping wet tee shirt. Sweat splashed onto the concrete. After I had cooled down and cleaned up and had dinner, in the living room Leo entertained the three of us, plus my wife on video chat, till bedtime.
My annoying restless leg was at peace last night, thank god, and I don't remember any nightmares. This morning Leo is napping in his chair as I type my post and his parents are sipping coffee and reading the morning paper.
Leo is so cute when he wakes and stretches.
He arches his back, he curls his legs way up to his chest just as far as they'll go, he clenches his fists and raises his hands and arms above his head, he squints his eyes, and he purses his mouth till his lips are fat and the tip of his tiny tongue peeks out, his face turns red, he grunts, he wrestles from side to side, and then—ah!—he stretches, he stretches, he stretches, he stretches, he stretches—
He stretches!
Ah!
He releases and relaxes.
Oh!
Leo sees his father! Leo smiles. He turns his head and sees his mother. Oh! Leo smiles. He sees me. Oh! Leo smiles.
Oh!
May all beings embody the great way, resolving to awaken.
