The Besh Moments In Life

Besh,

I know it probably didn’t make sense at the time and there’s no telling if you’ll remember this incident years from now when it may actually make sense. But just in case, I thought I’d help explain.

First, Mommy and I are exhausted. But you knew that. So bear in mind that this can make things a bit funnier than they are in reality. Still, this was pretty funny.

See, when we were hanging out watching “the singing show” (it’s actually called American Idol, by the way) I was holding Isaac so he didn’t wake up. Which means whatever position he fell asleep in–DON’T MOVE. This is crucial. Because as much as you can explain to a 5-week old that a new position is just as comfortable as the previous one, they don’t listen. And returning them to the former position no longer works. I’m sure there’s a scientific proof out there about this, you can go and Google it. Or whatever you use in the future if not Google.

So after sitting with Isaac on my arm for a bit, when it finally was time to move for bath time, I shifted my arm and two horrendously loud snaps came out of various joints. I groaned because they weren’t the kind of snaps that relieve pressure, they were the kind of snaps that hurt (not permanently, nothing broken, just…OW).

You, being the sweet boy you are, immediately asked “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

I, of course, responded back, “Nothing’s wrong. My arm just cracked.”

You slid off the bed and came over to the chair, such a serious and curious look on your face. And you politely asked your question.

“Can I see your crack?”

Perfectly legitimate question from your perspective. But by now you probably know that crack generally refers to, well, another part of anatomy most often found on plumbers. Your mom and I knew this, which is why we laughed a little bit.

You, not understanding what was funny, continued to ask.

“I want to see your crack. Show me your crack. Where is your crack?”

This made us laugh more. But not wanting to laugh too hard and wake up Isaac, we were both holding it in. Not well, but trying.

“What? What’s so funny? Show me your crack!”

At this point we were both crying. Not because crack is a sad thing (it can be) but we were crying from laughter. There’s nothing quite like being sleep deprived and having a four-year-old honestly and earnestly ask to see your crack.

Hopefully that makes a bit more sense now, if you even remember it.

And no, I’m still not showing you.