By Charles Towne
“Well Daddy, I is wet ‘cause the fishies was dirty and I gave them a baff!”
I can remember WAYYY back when we used “B.C.” for measuring time. For those not in the know, B.C. stands for: Before Children.
I can also remember when my new bride and I first set up housekeeping. At that time, we were still in our mental diapers, and without the good sense the good Lord gave a goofy gopher.
We shared everything, I mean, we were in love! Yeah, we shared the toothbrush, germs, the bathroom, showers, (that was fun} naps, naps, NAPS, and chewing gum— If I remember right we took the naps right after we took our showers!
And then, quite suddenly our offspring began appearing, and boy, did they appear. (I think it might of had something to do with all those naps.) Intimacy was sadly a thing of the past, the far distant past, or so it seemed.
There we would be amidst the throes of passion if you get my meaning, and the bedroom door would burst open, and a rampaging hoard of yowling, screaming, parent devouring, manic offspring would dash into the bedroom and pile onto the bed. Suddenly all thoughts of that intimate interlude would vanish into the ether.
Kids sure are cute, aren’t they?
We had four little nose pickers about as fast as it takes to tell the torrid tale.
It was about the time that our third little bed wetter made his appearance that we finally figured out what was causing this invasion of rug rats, so, being clever, naturally, we stopped drinking the water.
And I bet you were thinking that I was iggorant!
But, our conclusion that pregnancy was caused by drinking the local water was somewhat erroneous because a fourth little tadpole swam up that narrow canal and evolved into our youngest son, Russell. O.K., I guess we were dumber than stumps.
There was that time, and I remember it well. It was on a quiet Sunday morning and we had decided to sleep in. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Too quiet and peaceful. Chuck Jr, about two years old at the time, crept into our bed. What the heck! His jammies were wet? soaking wet in fact?
“Chuck, why are you all wet?”
His answer puzzled me at first, and then I was wide awake.
“Well daddy, I is wet ‘cause the fishies was dirty so I gave them a baff!”
I hit the floor running, but, I was too late.
We had a large freshwater aquarium in the living room. Chuck had efficiently captured each of the “fishies” with the aquarium net and transferred them to the kitchen sink, where he had used a scouring brush, hot water and lots, and lots, and lots of dish soap to give each of them a “baff.”
Sad to say, the fishies were somewhat worse off for this treatment. (I think they might have drowned?) But, they were definitely clean!
As the old saying goes, “The road to a very hot place is paved with good intentions!” In my son’s defense, I am sure his intentions were good.
I believe that Papa God, in His great wisdom and infinite mercy, takes our intentions into consideration, but then, having said that, I expect that He does hope we will learn. Praise God, aren’t we fortunate that He is always there to save us from the dire results of our little faux pas?
Charles Towne is first and foremost a Christian. An octogenarian, author, journalist, wildlife photographer, naturalist, caregiver, and survivor, his life has been and continues to be, a never-ending adventure filled with possibilities never imagined. He has adopted the philosophy that to Live fully, laugh uproariously, love passionately, and learn like there is no tomorrow, is a formula for a long and joy-filled life.