Officially a father

I've officially been initiated as a father...and more than once too. It's harder to be initiated if you have a daughter, but a son? It's going to happen whether you want it to or not.

We took Shane in for his first check-up Monday. I filled out a wad of forms, many which were asking questions about things that could not have possibly happened yet. You know, typical doctor questions. Has the patient been out of the country in the past five years? No. He hasn't been out of his mom for much more than five days, do I really have to fill this out?  Isn't it obvious he doesn't smoke or drink alcoholic beverages more than three times a day?  I like to think I'm at least a decent father!  I limit him to one beer bottle before bedtime, and not an ounce more!

Anyway, we were at the doctor's office. Carrie and I cart Shane into one of the examination rooms where you sit on that bench/table thing with wax paper running down the middle of it. The nurse comes in and asks us to unclothe or son. This we weren't expecting. The nurse assures us it's alright and lays a liner down that we're supposed to place our bare baby upon. I remember taking a deep breath and mentally crossing my fingers that Shane doesn't start pooping all over the office or spraying pee. He may be small, but he packs a surprising amount of pressure.  Thankfully, Shane had already peed and pooped up his diaper, so we had a window of opportunity.

7 lbs 12 ounces. Go Shane!

We trotted victoriously back to the examination room and before we could get Shane dressed we started to hear ominous noises.

Poop-sign.

First, there's a little poot. Then, things got a little wetter. Within a few seconds, Shane is dropping his load (a very healthy grey poupon) on the exam table. Rats! At least we saved a diaper. I picked him up and held him while Carrie and the nurse started damage control. It's when I'm cooing and bouncing him, my stomach starts to feel warm.

Warm....and wet.

I held my son against my chest for maybe another second or two as the gears started turning in my head. I looked down and confirmed my suspicions. Yep. The kid was peeing all over my chest. If we were at home, I'd have just held him close to save the floors and carpets, but we're at a doctor's office. I turned him slightly to the side and let the rest of his load arc out and hit the wall. If there was a baby merit badge involving distance, he'd have earned it. Doctors have to clean those rooms after patients and it was the nurses idea to strip Shane in the first place, so I wasn't feeling to guilty.

I was feeling proud.  My boy's got a healthy wee-wee. He saved me a diaper too. Heck, this may mean he's going to grow up to be an environmentalist.

I have officially survived my initiation as a father: my son has peed on me.