Gas boy

My husband I try to follow the same page when it comes to parenting. However, what we constitute as “important” is vastly different. I truly believe there are times my husband brain is made of play-do. Take for example this afternoon.

My beloved boys arrived home shortly after I did this afternoon. The smell hit me like a freight train, I knew immediately what the offending odor was…gasoline. I refused to go near my husband believing he was the carrier of the smell, but immediately reached down to hug my son. Wait a minute, what is this, my child is reeking of the foul waft of gas! My husband says nothing to me and walks in the house. Before I can ask why my baby smells like petro and not baby powder, Mike gingerly and calmly states, you may want to wash his face and hands he dumped al little gas over his head at the neighbors. WHAT! What is a “little” gas, obviously it was more than a drop, but drastically less than the BP disaster. My mind conjures up a pictures of the birds that are oil covered, being carried away and put into cages…OH NO – is this what is going to happen to my child. A do-gooder volunteer is going to knock on my door with oversized rubber gloves on and toss him into a cage?

If I had been there when the incident I occurred (hhmm, strange to write that because if I were there I it never would have happened) I would have immediately put the baby in the car and headed to the ER. Gas + baby surely equals a terrible rash or seepage into the blood stream that would most definitely cause permanent damage! I scoop up the boy up and take him into the shower. His shower was reminiscent of the scene in “Sillkwood” when Cher got contaminated and had to wash in the contamination shower at work. I was scrubbing and lathering and rescrubbing and lathering. His hair was washed and rinsed 3 times. I used the wash cloth and soap with surgical precision as if my sons life depended on it (and in my mind it did!)

My husband believes I am over reacting, maybe I should dump some gas on him!!!