The Pimple, A Father's Story
** I was going to let this go but I thought it needed to be documented. In my defense, I was not fully awake at the time. This story was inspired by a pimple, on Sydney's cheek (no, the real cheek this time). I'm starting to believe I have OCD. **
I woke up bright and early this morning to check on Sydney. What did I see? A huge pimple on the right cheek of my sweet baby girl. It was right there plain as day, a red mound with a white head. I grabbed the digital camera and snapped a picture (Exhibit A, pimple circled as evidence). Afterall, it was my baby's first pimple. Awwwwwwww.
Exhibit A
But then it started to bug me. How could an unsightly pimple take up residence on my baby's delicate skin? It's an abomination. I kept getting up to take a closer look. I had to do something. In the life of every father, there comes a time when he has to come to the rescue of his little girl. I felt this was one of those times. I had 3 courses of action, as I was lying there thinking about it:
A) I could squeeze it out with my fingers,
B) I could lance it with a small needle,
C) I could cover it with a band-aid and smother it to death.
Yeah, that's what I would do. Those were all viable options so I could just try them one by one. I leaned over my baby's sleepy face and approached the pimple with my thumbnails from both sides.
"Be gone, devil!" I whispered under my breath as I was determined to pop the living s*** out of the little zit. Just then, I heard a shriek from the bed. My wife had awaken to spoil my plan. "Don't even think about it," she hissed.
"But, honey, but...but..." I stammered, not sure of how to explain my action. She made sure I stepped away from the baby and scolded me into believing that by popping the zit, I would scar the baby not to mention hurting her.
Ok, maybe squeezing her tender skin was not exactly the best option. I went back to bed, fuming over the fact that the pimple was still there on the baby's precious face. I decided to get up and go for coffee. Then it occurred to me that Plan B would be just fine. A quick lance with a needle and the white head would be gone. No scarring. No pain. After a few sips of coffee and mulling over my strategy, I grabbed the needle and alcohol and sneaked back into the bedroom. My wife must have suspected it because by the time I was within 2 feet from the baby, she was already springing out of bed. I felt a sharp tug at the back of my shirt. Next thing I knew, I was standing outside the bedroom with the door shut firmly behind me. Time for more coffee and rethink the whole situation. This sucks.
For the lack of a better plan, I guess covering the little creep up with a band-aid would just have to do. I found a box of Band-Aids (Exhibit B) and made my way back to the bedroom. The little round band-aids were semi-clear. It will look unobtrusive on her face. Perfect! If you can't pick at them, pop the crap out of them or poke at them, then smother them. My wife greeted me at the door as soon as I turned the doorknob. "Hear me out," I reasoned, "I just want to cover it up with a teeny weensy band-aid so it doesn't get aggravated and get worse. ok?"
Man, I hate it when she's right. She said no and told me just to leave it alone. These band-aids were not made for babies. The adhesive MIGHT aggravate her skin and make things worse, especially when we try to pull it off. "For the last time, leave...it...alone!" she glared at me.
Exhibit B
Even as I sit here typing the blog, the pimple is probably growing to about the size of a small fruit. I have read that it was normal for babies to develop acne, but it is bugging the crap out of me. After suffering for years from acne even to this day, this fate isn't what I want to pass on to my kid, at least not before puberty. Saaaaaaay...I wonder if a tiny dab of 10% benzoyl peroxide on Sydney would go unnoticed. We'll see.
P.S. This might be my last blog if Tracie decides to kill me. If I go for 3 months without another entry here, I hope the police will find this blog and not hold Tracie responsible for her actions.
I woke up bright and early this morning to check on Sydney. What did I see? A huge pimple on the right cheek of my sweet baby girl. It was right there plain as day, a red mound with a white head. I grabbed the digital camera and snapped a picture (Exhibit A, pimple circled as evidence). Afterall, it was my baby's first pimple. Awwwwwwww.
But then it started to bug me. How could an unsightly pimple take up residence on my baby's delicate skin? It's an abomination. I kept getting up to take a closer look. I had to do something. In the life of every father, there comes a time when he has to come to the rescue of his little girl. I felt this was one of those times. I had 3 courses of action, as I was lying there thinking about it:
A) I could squeeze it out with my fingers,
B) I could lance it with a small needle,
C) I could cover it with a band-aid and smother it to death.
Yeah, that's what I would do. Those were all viable options so I could just try them one by one. I leaned over my baby's sleepy face and approached the pimple with my thumbnails from both sides.
"Be gone, devil!" I whispered under my breath as I was determined to pop the living s*** out of the little zit. Just then, I heard a shriek from the bed. My wife had awaken to spoil my plan. "Don't even think about it," she hissed.
"But, honey, but...but..." I stammered, not sure of how to explain my action. She made sure I stepped away from the baby and scolded me into believing that by popping the zit, I would scar the baby not to mention hurting her.
Ok, maybe squeezing her tender skin was not exactly the best option. I went back to bed, fuming over the fact that the pimple was still there on the baby's precious face. I decided to get up and go for coffee. Then it occurred to me that Plan B would be just fine. A quick lance with a needle and the white head would be gone. No scarring. No pain. After a few sips of coffee and mulling over my strategy, I grabbed the needle and alcohol and sneaked back into the bedroom. My wife must have suspected it because by the time I was within 2 feet from the baby, she was already springing out of bed. I felt a sharp tug at the back of my shirt. Next thing I knew, I was standing outside the bedroom with the door shut firmly behind me. Time for more coffee and rethink the whole situation. This sucks.
For the lack of a better plan, I guess covering the little creep up with a band-aid would just have to do. I found a box of Band-Aids (Exhibit B) and made my way back to the bedroom. The little round band-aids were semi-clear. It will look unobtrusive on her face. Perfect! If you can't pick at them, pop the crap out of them or poke at them, then smother them. My wife greeted me at the door as soon as I turned the doorknob. "Hear me out," I reasoned, "I just want to cover it up with a teeny weensy band-aid so it doesn't get aggravated and get worse. ok?"
Man, I hate it when she's right. She said no and told me just to leave it alone. These band-aids were not made for babies. The adhesive MIGHT aggravate her skin and make things worse, especially when we try to pull it off. "For the last time, leave...it...alone!" she glared at me.
Even as I sit here typing the blog, the pimple is probably growing to about the size of a small fruit. I have read that it was normal for babies to develop acne, but it is bugging the crap out of me. After suffering for years from acne even to this day, this fate isn't what I want to pass on to my kid, at least not before puberty. Saaaaaaay...I wonder if a tiny dab of 10% benzoyl peroxide on Sydney would go unnoticed. We'll see.
P.S. This might be my last blog if Tracie decides to kill me. If I go for 3 months without another entry here, I hope the police will find this blog and not hold Tracie responsible for her actions.
posted by DaddyEyeduck at 8:39 AM
1 Comments:
This is funny. I might feel the same about my baby girl when that happens!
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