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“And I Shall Name Him Baby Dutch!”

In early October we took the kids to the beach for the weekend.  I really prefer the beach in the fall after all the tourists and humidity are gone.

We had a really nice time.  Our lodging wasn’t exactly luxury but it was a block from the Ocean and it had a little indoor pool and a separate bedroom – which comes in very handy when you are trying to get to little ones to sleep. . .

Anyway, one afternoon we decided we’re put on our swim gear, walk to the beach, see how the conditions were and if necessary had back to the pool to actually swim if it was too cold or rough or windy.

Chris wore his flip flops to the beach.  And we played in the surf for a little while but it was really windy and rough so we soon retreated to the pool.

And later that evening Chris mentioned his foot hurt.  Hurt like there was a blister or something.  However, a visual inspection of the area didn’t really reveal much.  It looked pretty normal.

And the next day, he was still mumbling about it.

We figured he likely got some teensy little particle somehow lodged in the skin.  Maybe a wee piece of glass or something?

“It will work itself out eventually,” I assured him.  “Remember when I got that teensy little piece of glass in my finger?  It did come out in a few days.”

Except – just my luck – Chris’ thing did NOT reveal itself after a few short days.  And, it felt as if I heard about it A. LOT. AHHHHH!!!!

Perhaps three or four weeks later, I was sitting in Mac’s preK parent meeting when I got a text from Chris informing me he was going to the Doctor to have his foot examined and to get a flu shot.

Upon his return:

Me:  “Well?”

Chris:  “Well, they were out of flu shots, she told me I had to see a podiatrist for my foot and my hamstring’s tight so I have a referral for physical therapy.”

Me:  Snort.  Snort.  “My poor baby!”  Snort.

Except Chris couldn’t seem to manage to find a podiatrist.  He thought he had but the contact info was bad. . .Or something?  I don’t know, we’re so distracted with the kids, it’s hard to get anything accomplished.

So Chris just continued with the barnacle – which by the way, was still practically invisible to the human eye. . .

Me:  “I’m going to the drug store to get Teddy’s medicine.  Do you need anything?”

Chris:  “Corn cushions.”

Me:  “Are you shitting me?  What the hell do you want corn cush. . .!  NO!  You’re going to put a corn cushion on that spot on your foot?!  What are you 89 years old?!”

Chris:  “The doctor said it might help.”

So I bought him the corn cushions.  And with much flare and great drama, Chris proceeded to show Mac how he applied the corn cushion.

What followed was nearly another month of not only hearing Chris whine about his foot but ALSO hearing Mac talk about it non-stop.  “Daddy has a sore spot on his foot and he uses a cushion.  Mackinley has a bad foot and this is my corn cushion.  If you walk around without shoes, you might have a bad foot.”

MAKE.  IT.  STOP.  ALREADY!!!

And then one evening Chris emerged from the shower with a look of victory.

Me:  “What the hell were you doing in there?  Why are you so damned happy?”

Chris:  “Do you have any idea what it feels like to carry something inside of you, being uncomfortable for months?  DO you KNOW how that feels?!”

Me:  “I have a pretty good idea, seeing as how I’ve birthed TWO babies.”

Chris:  “Deni, tonight I have given birth.  I have given birth to THIS!” (points dramatically to something barely visible resting on a box of Dove soap on the bathroom counter)

Me:  Squinting.  “Your foot thing?”

Chris:  “Yes!  And I shall name him Baby Dutch!”  (At the time Teddy would run around constantly screaming Dutch for some reason).

Me:  Huge eye roll, leaves bathroom.

Chris:  “Hey!  Don’t touch Baby Dutch!  I want to show him to Mackinley tomorrow.”

He’s a sick bastard.

And the next morning when Mac got awake Chris – again with great flare and drama introduced Mac to Baby Dutch.

Mac:  “That’s Baby Dutch?  From Daddy’s foot?!”

Me:  Sigh.

Mac:  “Can I hold Baby Dutch?”

Chris:  “Well, he’s really small.  Be careful.”

And at that moment, Teddy came crashing over, knocking over the soap box upon which Baby Dutch was resting.  Baby Dutch went flying into the air, coming to rest on the floor. . .and I’m pretty sure the dog ate it.

Thank gawd.

Now, does anyone have any suggestions for repurposing 20 unused corn cushions?