It's like family, only weirder…

Don’t Drink the Water

Well, we leave tomorrow and Balthazar finally broke through his shell yesterday evening. We ate dinner yesterday at Hemmingway’s, one of the better (and few open) restaurants on the Gulf. He did very well there with all of the family – though Stacey had already left – and even played with one of Orin and Abigail’s sons, Gus. He’s the oldest, and apt to chase Balthazar around the restaurant. He also got spaghetti, which is an easy favorite. Earlier in the day we had visited the bay where Balthazar had various fits and sat briefly in the lapping shoreline. He was only mildly wet, so I didn’t bother changing his water-diaper. At the restaurant he spent a fair amount of time sitting on my lap, which slowly became wetter and wetter. I found myself eventually pondering just how much bay water the water-diaper had soaked up. The diaper showed no sign of drying. The concern was fleeting and I forgot all about it until later in the dinner. By this time, Balthazar had finished eating and my legs were sufficiently covered in spaghetti sauce. He was done eating and we began walking around the place to keep him happy. As I scooped him up, thwarting his mischievous plans, I distinctly felt something dripping on my leg. Upon further investigation, I noticed striking patterns of wetness on my shirt, shorts, and leg. So the bay water was never actually bay water at all. It was little-boy piss. I’m fortunate that 2-year-old urine doesn’t smell like much, but there is a faint aroma evident. Me and Balthazar were covered in urine until we were both able to get back to the condo and bathe. It’s funnier knowing that this was the second time in the vacation this happened to me. The first was after playing in the beach. Balthazar filled his diaper with antibiotic-induced poop, the likes you never want to see. After picking him out of the water with this load waiting, he slowly oozed out onto me as we walked back to the apartment. I knew he was stinky, but I didn’t realize it was oozing out everywhere. Hard to spot a dad at the beach? Nah!


Reader Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *