Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Vaseline: Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

Brother, can you spare some petroleum jelly?

We don’t have too many rules around here, but one is We Don’t Eat Vaseline. Now Vaseline is a household staple. We apply it do anything we don’t understand or recognize, with surprisingly effective results. It removes makeup, stops bleeding, soothes chapped lips, and we’ve put it on Bub’s butt numerous times, as needed. But it’s not a food group.

The rule came about when Bub got a rash on his chin. Obviously we put Vaseline on it. Duh. The next day, he asked for more. Fine, rash was still there, probably didn’t feel too good. Dab dab rub rub. This went on for another day or so, yet, hmmm, his rash was not improving. Then I found out why; walked in to find him standing there, Gene Simmons-ing his chin. Then he looked at me:

“More Vaseline? More Vaseline chin?”
“Wait, did you just eat Vaseline off your chin and then ask for seconds?”
“Well…no. We do not EAT Vaseline.” He stuck his tongue out, started licking his chin.
“Lick it. I’m licking it,” he said, just to clarify.
“No no no, we do not LICK Vaseline, either. That counts.”
“No lick?”
“No, man. We don’t eat OR lick Vaseline. Got it?”
“Okay, Daddy.”

Two rules, technically. But nobody’s counting. Until they get thrown back in your unsuspecting parental grill. Last night I was changing his diaper after a particulary rigorous bowel movement. His, not mine.

“Um, you want some Vaseline, there, Bub?”
“Okay, just a second.” I go to get it and come back to find him completely spread-eagle on the floor, and he’s managed to put his feet together and pull his legs back to his head in a diamond shape, so that his crown jewel is fully exposed.
“I want it right HERE!” he screams, thrusting his index finger directly at his sphincter.
“Okay, I got it. There you go,” I say, start looking for a tissue. But he’s still lying there, a little too long now. Getting awkward now. Perhaps he wants to thank me, needs closure or something. So I give him the prompt:
“Um, what do you say?”
He jabs his finger at his now-shiny butthole fervently and screams: “DON’T EAT IT, DADDY!”
“A simple thank you would—“
“I promise you I won’t. Now can we please get a diaper on?”

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