One of the biggest thrills in my (nearly) 3 year old’s life is helping daddy take the garbage out on Monday night. He talks about it all week long and then gets so excited when the day comes. We go from room to room collecting the garbage and the recycling and then make multiple trips down to the end of the driveway to take it out. The entire time he’s laughing, smiling, waving to mom and generally making me incredibly happy to be a dad.
In any case, last weekend I had poker at the house for the Cleveland Poker League and collectively we drank quite a few beers and pops. My wife is GREAT when it comes to recycling so I make it a point to make sure that none of those cans or bottles get thrown away during the game. So, little G and I go down into the basement, gather up all of the cans and bottles and make our way upstairs to the garage where we have the “can crusher”. FYI, to a 2 year old, this is mankind’s greatest invention.
So we’re crushing our cans (he handing them to me and me doing the crushing) and I notice that he’s completely soaked down the front of his pants. My first inclination is to think that he’s had an accident (seeing as we’re currently potty training). Then a terrible realization comes over me… I’ve just managed to cover him in Miller Lite. Dammit!!!
His mother is going to KILL him and tha’ts nothing compared to what she’s going to do to me.
So… I’m either a really good guy cause I’m doing my part for the environment, or I’m a really bad dad for dousing my son in beer. Maybe a little of both.