Molly and I drove our own cars to the ultrasound appointment since I was at work today, and I beat her there by a few minutes. As I was getting out of the car, my phone rang and it was the wife saying that she had been right behind me and was in the parking lot. She said she had to park right by the gate coming in because Lauren "had to go poop."

Now prospective parents, despite your belief that your kids are potty trained, it's always a good idea to keep that porta-potty camp toilet looking thing in the back of the old SUV. Why?

Here's why...




Oh, and in case that's not funny enough, as I was sitting here typing this in my manroom (which is now also doubling as Lauren's new clubhouse), I heard Lauren over the monitor saying (rather loudly) "Get me out. Get me out."

At the same time, the wife and I met at her room, and she was in her crib. Curious how she got in there, I said "Lauren, how'd you get in there? Can you show me?"

So she pulled herself up and stood on the bottom of the crib gate thingy, stood then on the bumper pad, swung a leg over and threw her right arm out to the end of the crib, straddled the crib gate, and slid over and into the crib.

However, when she landed (on her feet), she was holding...um...herself and I asked (as a good daddy will) "Honey, did you hurt your vagina doing that?"

She replied "Yeah, but it's okay daddy. It tickles when I do that."

Egad.


Oh, and the wife wanted me to share one more great daddy story today. About six months or so ago, she and Lauren were in the grocery store when Lauren saw an acorn squash and she said "Mommy!! A peanut!! A peanut!! Can we get it?"

The wife figures "sure...why not?" The wife and the daughter like squash, so maybe this is another veggie Lauren'll like.

However, a problem arose over the next several days. Despite our best efforts to tell her it was squash, she referred to it as a big peanut. Except that Lauren couldn't say peanut. She often had a pacifier in her mouth and that didn't help. Anyone that came into the house over the next week got "Hey!! Look at the big penis!!! I wuv big penis. I wuv big penis SOOOOO much. I wuv big penis in my mouf. Mommy, do YOU wuv big penis in YOUR mouf? Daddy, does that big penis go in your mouf? (I don't eat squash). This led to recurring dinner conversations that included "Daddy, why won't you put the big penis in your mouf? Do you not wike big penis in your mouf?"

I thought I was going to have a thrombosis.