I just got firehosed. Again.
For those of you not in the know, being "firehosed" is the result of the following actions:
1. Having a baby boy.
2. Baby boy destroying his diaper, thereby requiring a swift costume change.
3. Opening up his nice, warm, and incredibly goopy diaper to the cool air.
4. Cool air gracing his baby boy junk.
5. Baby boy deciding that cool air on his junk means, "PEE! NOW! EVERYWHERE*!"
*Everywhere includes, but is not limited to: Your face, his face, the dog's face, the wall, the ceiling, the ceiling of another room, the outfit he is wearing and, most definitely, the outfit you were going to change him in to.
Baby Daddy hasn't been firehosed yet. He thinks this is because he's much more vigilant than I when it comes to covering the baby wang. I think this is because he's been lucky.
"You've got to use the washcloth," he says.
"I do," I say.
"It's all about constant vigilance," he says.
"That's impossible. There is always a moment of vulnerability," I say.
"Constant vigilance," he says.
"You just wait. Karma is so going to kick your ass," I say.
This is when Slaggy X III interjects with a knowing smile followed by, "PPBBBBBLLLLLPPPPBBBBBLLLLL." And because he's a baby with few words and much to say, he emphasized his comment by exploding it out of his diaper, through his pants, and all over Baby Daddy's shirt.
"Constant vigilance," I say.