The Peanut Chronicles

I have traumatized my baby bear without meaning to.

What the hell happened? It’s simple….

Everyday when I get home from work, I play with the Nutter, feed him (more like he sticks his hand in the food, rubs it on my arm, blows strained pea raspberries at me, claps his hand, pulls the glasses off my face, and giggles as I try not to die of laughter), and then after this very enlightening process, we both hop into the tub. In the tub, I read Nut his bath time book (consists of six sentences about a dirty duck taking a bath and it’s water proof so he can splash and chew on it all he wants) and playing in the water. My little Nut likes to kick the water, rather then splash with his hands. Recently he has been grabbing the shower curtain and his book as well.

I figure, since the Nut likes his book so much and giggles when we read it in the tub, I would get him a rubber duck or two. We were in Metropolis yesterday eating at a great restaurant down the street from the shop where Nut literally grabbed a duck off the shelf to send to Sarge in Iraq. While we were saying our goodbyes to Fly Girl and her mom (who are spending 3.5 weeks in Europe, those lucky bastards!) I quickly ran down to the shop and bought Nut three rubber ducks. One was an army duck, like the one we sent to Sarge, all camouflage and with black horns. I got a back duck with horns and red racing flames down his side like a racecar. And finally, I got a hippie flower power “if you’re going to san Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair” white duck with big brightly colored daisy flowers all over it. No horns...

Today Nut and I got in the tub with the toys. We read our book. We giggled. And then Nut sees the ducks. He is quite and not moving. He is in a trance. I pick up Hippie duck and give her a little squeeze. She squeaks.

NUT SCREAMS.

Now, I am not talking an “I am getting tired of the water mom” scream. I am not talking about a “Scream of joy melting into giggles” scream. I am not even talking about an “I’m cold!” scream.

I am talking about a bone chilling, blood curdling, "I’ve walked onto the set of the Texas chain saw massacre” scream.

HOLY.SHIT.

He then starts to whimper and cry. Instantly, I snuggle him so he can’t see the evil ducks and there happy evil smiles assuring you that the bath is all right but in reality they come to life and then try to drown you. I pick those motherfuckers up and chuck them out of the tub… out of the bathroom… into the hall.

Maybe I let Nut watch Toy Story too many times. The rest of the bath was uneventful. But let me tell you this…

Nobody fucks with my kid.

Not even rubber ducks.

3 Comments:

First Year said...: Awww. I can just imagine that. Don't worry, you couldn't have known. None of of us could have known....; 7:09 AM
carrie said...: It is so funny (now that we can look back on it) how babies will react the exact opposite than we expect at times. I mean, you had no way of knowing that Nut had an aversion to rubber hippie ducks! Keep bringin' the funny stuff, and don't worry if he freaks, he won't remember it and sooner than later, he'll find something that totally cracks him up (I pray for your sake that it isn't Elmo). ;0)

Carrie; 11:32 PM
Mamacita Tina said...: Crack me up! I can just see those duckies flying.; 2:27 PM

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