I forgot to post my exercise from this morning.
The first five minutes:
The car was packed full of goodies and presents and snacks and expectations.
Janie reached back to adjust the cute sunglasses on baby Tyler’s face. They were driving east and the morning sun was blazing into the car. She didn’t want her baby’s eyes to burn. Plus, Tyler looked adorable in the tiny shades she had picked for him late yesterday afternoon.
Janie looked at George behind the wheel wearing his monstrous sunglasses. The sunglasses themselves weren’t giant but when you put anything on that gargantuan head they must be on the larger side of sizing.
George: A little tired and trying to hide his normal morning tired crankiness by taking prolonged sips from his XL coffee and short glances in the rear-view at the cuteness that was his son in his hilarious sunglasses.
Janie: Excited. She hadn’t seen her family in a what seemed like forever and she was amped to spend Christmas with them, “just like the ones she used to know”.
Tyler: Content. His diaper was clean and dry, his sunglasses were rockin’ and his parents were just in the front seat listening to some music that pretty much sounded all the same and talked about presents and Santa and missing people and joy being brought to the world.
The end of the first hour:
The car was less packed with goodies, but still rammed full of presents and expectations.
It was George’s turn to change Tyler and so when they stopped he took his son into the men’s washroom to do just that. Janie ran ahead because she “really had to pee”. In the confusion of the whole thing George forgot to bring the diaper bag with all the wipes, ointments, balms, salves, powders and, well, diapers. He, of course, didn’t realize this until he has his son laid out on the changing table in the washroom.
‘What the friggle am I going to do now?’ he said. There’s a word he’d never thought he say…friggle. George worked in construction and the word ‘fuck’ rolled off his tongue so eloquently if he was chosen to do the intro for masterpiece theatre he would be able to just continually say ‘fuck’ and receive applause whereas someone without his expertise would be reported to the CRTC.
Janie was waiting outside the door of the men’s washroom with two fresh coffees when George finally exited with a clean but virtually bottomless Tyler. He had concocted a makeshift diaper out of toilet paper with the help of Dennis, a kindly gentlemen who had no skills with respect to saying ‘fuck’ but mad skills when it came to makeshift diapers. Dennis had stopped to help him after washing his own hands.
Janie: “What the hell is that?”
George: “Don’t ask.”
Dennis: “Some of my finer work I think.”
George nodded a thanks to Dennis and then Mom, Dad, and TP Tyler made their way back to the car.
Janie: Worried. She hoped Tyler didn’t get sick from the short time he was bottomless outside in the cold.
George: Content. He was proud of his ‘thinking on his feet’ skills. Plus he was able to best his own PB with respect to putting Tyler’s real diaper on when they got back the car.
Tyler: Confused. He wondered why they double diapered him. That first one was pretty good. While the air was cold, he didn’t mind a little breeze on his bottom bits. It was freeing.
The third hour:
Janie: “I can’t listen to another fraggin’ Christmas carol. Yes, we know that Santa Claus is coming to town. Yes, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Yes, Jack Frost is nipping at my nose…and my son’s balls apparently.”
Then she looked out her window.
That last comment cut George a little. He didn’t mean to forget the bag, plus she had almost forgotten it when it was her turn to change him the last time they stopped. He was also a tad confused seeing as Janie had slept for the last little while and unless she could listen to Christmas carols in her sleep, there’s no way she would have heard the last fifteen or so.
George: “Did you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?”
Janie: “No, we should just keep going, it’s not far now.”
George: “I know but you seem on edge.”
Janie looked at him.
Janie: “Are we good parents?”
George: “Sure, why not?”
Janie: “You carried our son basically naked in the freezing cold.”
George: “It was a mistake okay? And he’s fine.”
George shifted for a second and looked back at Tyler who was fast asleep. His sunglasses still shading his eyes, even though the sun was shining somewhat overhead now.
George (cont’d): “See, if his sack was sore he’d let us know.”
Janie: I know but we shouldn’t be forgetting stuff like that, like you did and like I almost did.”
George: “Is he still alive?”
Janie looks back at him for a moment and then forward again.
George: “Then we’re good. If we actually forget him somewhere and not just his powder bag then we suck, but for now we’re good.”
George: “That’s it?”
Janie: “Sure. You’re right. Like we said when he was born, at some point he going to hate us and blame us for everything so as long as he’s fed, clean, cared for and he has fun then we’re good.”
Tyler: Loving everything. He was dreaming about swimming in chocolate and having “goo goo” conversations with Gummi Bears and about this Santa person that the songs kept talking about bringing him presents and even though he had no clue what any of it actually was, except for that it just was, he was happy.
George: Worried that somehow his son was going to turn out to be fucked up because of some little comment he says in passing one day that he doesn’t even think about, but Tyler interprets it a weird way and then everything goes to shit.
Janie: Sleepy. Her head rests against the pillow that leans against the window as she thinks about how everything is going to be okay with Tyler and George and her and the daughter they will have a couple years.
The real story:
“And that’s how it will go, or something like that,” Janie said, taking a sip from her tea.
“And everything will be fine?” George still wasn’t convinced.
“Yes, silly. Everything will be fine because we love each other and, yes, okay, we’ll probably screw it up sometimes, but we’ll screw it up together,” she said.
Janie put her teacup on the nightstand next to her side of the bed. She nestled into George and he put his arm around her. He placed his other hand on her still flatish stomach and gazed at the ceiling and wondered how big the baby was now.
“So we’re doing next Christmas at your parents then?” he said.
“Did you just listen to my story?” she said.
“Then, yes, just remember to bring the diaper bag so that weirdo guy named Dennis or whatever doesn’t have to help you.”
They both smiled individually and wondered if it was going to be a boy, like the story, or if their first born would be a girl.