I came inside and did what I always do - I gave him the baby. I love our little bear to pieces, but I need a break every once and awhile. Since Brian hasn't seen the bear all day, he is usually happy to feed or rock the baby while I finish up other chores. It's really a win-win situation. Not to mention, Brian is so good at putting the baby to bed that I call him 'The Closer.' Need a baby to fall asleep? Want to end "the game?" Call in the Closer. Brian jogs up the stairs, stretches out a little, and boom! Baby is down. He has some kind of secret talent I have not figured out yet. My working theory: he is about ten degrees warmer than the average human. This gives him a distinct edge over me and yet another reason for Scotty to love him. Mmm, warm snuggle. (yes, I'm Team Jacob. Always have been, always will be. That whole 'warmer than normal' is a major selling point with me. If I were Team Edward, I would be constantly wrapped in blankets and pushing him away.)
Anyways, tonight I added a little more to the nightly to-do list by asking Brian to bathe the baby while I folded laundry, pumped, and washed bottles (oh, my 'me time' is so fun these days.) Brian has given one bath in his lifetime, but he's a quick learner and I figured it would all turn out fine. He usually takes what I do and then does it better. I'm not bitter, but instead, insanely grateful for my smart, hands-on husband.
I was elbow-deep in hot water when I heard Brian's voice through the monitor calling for me. He had been gently talking to the little guy for almost ten minutes, and I was smiling happily to my sink full of soapy water, imagining all of the father-son bonding that must be going on upstairs. But when Brian called out my name, he didn't sound very sure of himself. I wondered if they were mid-bath, post-bath, or what the heck was going on.
I walked into the bathroom to find not an ounce of water in the tub yet. Brian was standing by the toilet, still dressed in his suit, tie and all, with his dress shoes still on. Next to him was a stark naked baby happily bouncing in his Boppy chair. Yes, that would be a naked baby in his Boppy chair. No diaper. Both looked at me when I entered the room with the exact same expression: completely blank.
I about died laughing. I asked Brian why he had completely disrobed Scotty without getting anything set up, and he just shrugged. Apparently, Brian couldn't find any of the bath supplies (it was a Merry Maids day, and I had put it all away). Scotty looked snug as a bug in his bouncy chair, without having the faintest idea that he was completely naked. I am just shocked that Brian (and his nice suit) managed to stay dry this long. And that Scotty didn't poop in the bouncer. (that would have been fun to clean).
Seriously, is it something on the Y chromosome? To undress a baby without getting anything set up -- what woman would do this? Even a non-Mom would never set a stark naked baby in his Boppy chair. Women are taught from birth that it's all about preparation. Baby-related or not, you are always prepared. This is why we carry purses. Need a tissue? I have one. Need a mirror? Yup, I have that, too. Need to bath a baby? Sure, let me get the washcloths, soap, comb, towels, Q-tips, cotton balls, Mr. Fish (Scotty wears a fish-shaped washcloth over the length of his body to stay warm. We lovingly refer to him as "Mr. Fish"), pjs, diaper, diaper ointment, and socks. And without prepartion? You are just asking to get peed on. Babies are like little loaded weapons, I've learned.
Long story short, after I stopped laughing, I sent Brian to change his clothes while I draped a towel over Scotty's nether regions and hustled to get our bath stuff together. Brian looked so forelorn (I kept telling him, "I'm not laughing at you...I'm laughing with you." I don't think he believed me) that he took laundry duty while I, once again, bathed the baby.
Silly baby. Silly husband. I wish I had my camera.