Meme Time

Seems that Weaselmomma, over at her outstanding site World of Weasels, tagged me for a meme.

The way this one works is that you have to go to the first picture folder on your computer, find the tenth picture, post it, and write the story behind it. Then you tag a few others to do the same thing.

Well… the first picture folder on my computer had only eight pictures in it, so I used my advanced math skills and proceeded to the second picture in the second folder. I figure that’s a fair interpretation of the rules.

This picture is of our blog’s namesake when he was only a few weeks old, getting a bath in the kitchen sink. Ah, those were the days. Back then, he stayed right where you put him; he didn’t pepper us 24/7 with inexplicable questions, he never stalked the cat, he was unanimously and unfailingly loved by his sisters, and he ate what we gave him (or rather, drank).

Here, his mom is giving him his bath, one of her favorite things to do. She loved to stroke his downy red hair and gently wipe his chubby little arms and legs. He always enjoyed the warm water, emitting soft sighs of delight when the water ran over his head or tummy. That bottle of Johnson’s Baby Wash stayed right there by the sink for years afterwards, long after he’d started walking and talking and demanding to watch Blue’s Clues. I think maybe his mom was hoping she’d have another shot at him being a baby once in a while. I have that wish myself, from time to time.

That blue bathtub he’s in was a gift from a stranger. One day, around the time when Michael was born, I helped a stranded motorist by pushing her vehicle off the street and giving her a ride home. In her gratitude she gave me a brand new baby bathtub, still in the box.

How could I turn that down? We needed one, because we were fresh out of baby supplies. After all, when we married, we each assumed there wouldn’t be any more babies. I had two girls, she had one. That was plenty.

Then, along came Michael. Totally by surprise. With red hair, and blue eyes; born to a couple of brown-haired, brown-eyed parents. We had to laugh at God’s sense of humor, blessing us with the revelation of a new addition to our family only weeks after we’d sold off in a garage sale the very last of the our collected set of old baby necessities, such as the baby bathtub that I’d been packing around for years despite a distinct lack of babies in my life.

And here he is. The star of the show now, someone we hadn’t planned for, someone we weren’t prepared for. Even today we’re finding out just how unprepared we are for him, which is the biggest reason why I write here, this sanctorum of musings about life as a second-time-around father, and of personal rants about my own stubbornness and lack of patience. If nothing else, this adventure has shown me that even at my age, there’s still a lot to learn about being a dad. There’s still a lot of growing I have to do.

Now then: I tag the following folks to continue the chain:

Antique Mommy – photographer and writer extraordinaire

Chuck at D is for Dad – someone who no doubt has a lot of worthy photos

Otter Thomas at Life of a New Dad – who reminds me of me, from a few years back.

And have a very Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!