Thursday, July 2, 2009

MIDWEEKER: Freedom of Peach

An average follower of this amateurish, know-nothing dad's blog will remember that our Mission Statement really frowns on sharing nightmarish descriptions of parenthood. People want the happy end results of parenting (whatever the heck those are - I'm thinking bankruptcy and pants with elastic waistbands). They don't need to be bothered with the gory, gory details in getting there.

Well anyway, I seem to have forgotten that when I submitted a short piece to the ship's Public Relations Office. Here's the little gem I got back:

A short one for you today. The crew is a big fan of the Walker County Rest Area on I-45 just north of Huntsville, TX. So on the way back from Fruitvale last week, we decided to throw out the old mooring lines over there and take advantage of the bazillions of tax dollars the Crown dumped into the middle of nowhere.

We had been, umm... smelling something disgusting the fresh East Texas air. For about 20 minutes, accusatory complimentary glances had been shot around towards the usual intra-car air pollution freshening suspects: El Comodoro, First Mate Belle, and *gasp* the Captain himself. After the crew played a few rounds of blame, denial and disbelief I-Spy, we pulled into the scorching enjoyable 103° heat of the rest stop.

El Capitan was smiling his little buns off when I went to unfasten his NASCAR harness... And I froze dead in my tracks smiled happily. The child was COVERED in poopy flowers. Nasty, stinky, peach poopy. Wonderful, fragrant, beautiful flowers. It was oozing from his diaper. Butterflies were floating through the air. It was on his hands. It was in his hair. It was on his carseat. It was on his 3-cornered hat. It was on his nose. It was on HMS Tahoe's rich, Corinthian leather. It was used to write nearby graffiti. It was on an original copy of the Declaration of Independence. Jack lived happily ever after.

The crew debated whether to dip him in Clorox on the spot, or just tough it out with half a box of babywipes and a short prayer. They optcd for the latter.

I guess censorship really can be a good thing.


Anonymous said...

Sorry ye mates from the far Frisco shore couldnt set sail to meet up with you on yer voyage from the south seas of Houston....
Freedom of Peach... I almosted exploded with laughter (not to be confused with umm... peach explosion) we too have cleaned our way thru similar incidents. Be glad the ship was fully stocked with the wipes! sheesh.. what did parents do before the great invention of wet wipes?

El Comodoro said...

Arrrgh to Mr. Uncle Ryan! We missed y'all, too. It wasn't in the cards this time. We'll fix that.

Yeah I've often wondered what happened when all you had around the house for childcare was some papyrus reeds, bitumen and pitch to chunk your offspring into the Nile. No swings, monitors, baby Tylenol, wet wipes and diapers as we know them.

It's incredible this whole children thing ever caught on.

Anonymous said...

you are SO FUNNY!!! I love your writing.
Kristen Everett Eastman

El Comodoro said...

Hey thanks! That ghostwriter is really worth the dough.