In the span of about 12 hours, my son did two things that absolutely thrilled me.
The first one made me happy, but for selfish reasons. You see, I was sitting on my porcelain throne enjoying the only alone time a man ever gets when I reached for the toilet paper and was left grasping at air. I looked behind the toilet where MJ sometimes stashes a roll. Nothing. Then I peered into the nearby cabinet hoping there were a few tucked away. No such luck. MJ wasn’t home, Will was watching Mickey Mouse Club House and I realized I was officially stranded on the shitter.
Not wanting to do the pants-around-ankles-waddle-to-the-other-bathroom-for-a-roll-of-toilet-paper dance, I called out for Will. I wasn’t really expecting much but figured it was worth a shot.
He came over, opened the bathroom door and gave me a curious look. “Dada poop?” he asked. I confirmed that yes, Dada was indeed pooping. And then I said “Hey buddy, Dada needs some toilet paper. Can you get some from Mama & Dada’s bathroom?” I felt stupid even asking. The kid is 2. It’s like asking a monkey to do calculus or Tiger Woods to be faithful.
But surprisingly, Will turned and went into our bathroom. I saw the light flip on. I heard some rustling. And lo and behold the little guy came back with a roll of toilet paper and happily handed it over to me.
“Thank you big guy!! You’re so smart, what a good little helper you are buddy!” I said with genuine pride. Then I went to give him a big high five.
“No Dada. You wipe bum.”
He’s right. First thing’s first.
Last night I was feeling pretty out of it. Everything with the baby and the upcoming ultrasound has me really frazzled. I try to be strong and positive and pretend nothing is wrong for Will’s sake, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t working. And last night those feelings were confirmed.
Will asked me to lay down with him on our bed to watch the Wiggles. While Dorothy the Dinosaur was off cavorting with those four Australian douchebags, my mind wandered once again back to the baby. It seems like all I’m able to think about are the nightmare scenarios that await us on Tuesday. I try to get them out of my head but I can’t. At work, at home…it’s consuming me.
I have no idea what kind of face I was making but suddenly I realized Will was staring at me, looking very concerned. And that’s when he did something that nearly made my heart burst.
“Dada sad,” he said with concern in his voice and his eyes. Then he handed me his monkey. “Happy Dada, happy.”
He gave me his monkey — his most prized possession on Earth — because he knew I was sad and he wanted to cheer me up. I hugged that kid so tight I nearly strangled him. And I kissed him so much he had to push himself away from me while giggling. So much compassion from a kid who’s only 27 months old. When your child does something so selfless and kind, it just makes you feel so good and filled with so much pride. It’s indescribable what that gesture meant to me in that specific moment.
We’re going through an extraordinarily rough patch right now but as long as I have MJ, Will and that smelly ass monkey, I know it’ll eventually be OK no matter what.