Body Paste

This is a difficult time to parent. The kids, ages 3-years and 22-months (x2), are so active. Their inhibitions are non-existent. Their curiosity is boundless. And, most difficult for me to cope with, the sports offerings are irresistible.

Thanks to the proliferation of college sports, and our digital cable, we get about two dozen college football games piped into our home throughout the day. Following all of them is exhausting, especially when pivotal moments in multiple games are happening simultaneously. Last Saturday was particularly difficult since it was the day of the Big Game in Iowa, the Iowa-Iowa State match-up. The game is so huge that it sucks all media attention and alters the campaigns of the dozens of presidential candidates ambling across the state.* Of course I had to follow that game for fear of having nothing to talk about with my fellow Iowans for the next week, but other compelling events were happening at the same time. My beloved alma mater Drake was playing a football game. My beloved Cubs were playing a game critical to the pennant race. My beloved children were playing with something that I should’ve been paying attention to.

While supervising the kids, I bounced between the television, the radio, and the Internet, following multiple games on each platform. I had so many questions to divine. Will Iowa State win a game this year?** Will Iowa settle for an awful bowl this year, or will they sneak into one that’s merely bad?*** When will the Cubs choke?**** Why are my kids being so quiet in the other room?

Exhausted from chasing the kids and commercials all afternoon, I sat down to watch television for five minutes before putting them down for a nap. When I stood back up 15 minutes later, I discovered why Abbie was so quiet. She was in her room, had stripped naked, and was smearing butt paste all over her body.

I immediately threw her in the shower, which turned out to be not such a great idea. Apparently salves that are designed to repel water are difficult to remove in the bathtub, especially when present in an inch-thick layer throughout the body. Plus the boys, who are drawn to the sound of running water almost as strongly as the sound of Goldfish poured into a cup, demanded a bath as well. I gave everyone a full bath, complete with a thorough shampoo. The result: A film of butt paste covered everyone from head to toe, including the hair where it made an excellent styling aid.

I pulled everyone out of the bath, dried them off, and looked in dismay as everyone’s hair adopted the greaser look. I rushed the kids off to nap, a mere hour late, and took time to regroup while basking in the glory of a Cub win, a Drake victory, and a near perpetual television lineup of college football.

Mommy, who had to work Saturday, suggested we try using dish soap to clean them. At least that was her suggestion after she stopped laughing at their hair. We popped them in the bathtub the next day, lathered them up with dish soap, and watched them emerge mostly paste-free. The soap left them with dishpan hair, but at least they were lemony fresh.

We dried them, dressed them, and turned them loose in the house. I made sure to throw away the remnants of the butt paste first; pro football was on all day, so there was a good chance I wouldn’t be supervising them closely most of the day.

* Notice that Hillary Clinton unveiled her new health care plan on the Monday after the game. Unveiling it the week before the game would’ve ensured that it landed somewhere the back of the newspaper next to the tire ads.
** Yes.
*** Awful bowl.
**** Never…