Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper date 1562. This is my Maiden Voyage on the interwebs in regards to my personal Captain’s Log. There have been several previous entries which may be re-shared at a later date.
It is Christmas Eve Eve. The natives are restless. The diaper dweller spent much of the day attempting to crawl. His frustration builds with each crawling defeat. He has now resorted to lunging and hurling himself at objects belonging to his sister. When he cannot reach them, he simply lays on the floor and cries – waiting for someone to pick him up and, without fail, each time he is rescued. I swear the last time he winked at me when Mrs. Captain scooped him up. He has the easy life right now. He sits on the floor and we sprinkle toys around him. The eldest delights in jumping and making funny faces at the boy. Often he follows her movements and responds with a grin, loud laugh, and ear splitting shriek of joy. He may be the smart one. We are simply pawns for his entertainment and employ. From time to time we trail a few toys a few feet away from him until he tries to crawl. Each time his belly gets in the way. Soon he will be mobile. On that day we will all be in dire straits. He has the strength of an entire day care, nails as sharp as Wolverine, and a screech that we need to rectify before he is old enough for school.
The eldest learned a valuable lesson today. Despite receiving several warnings from the crew, she continued to test the structural integrity of the Christmas ornaments that she liberated from the tree. Though I was upstairs on cat litter detail (still not sure how the Captain gets assigned to such a rudimentary duty), I clearly heard the deck officer tell the girl to cease and desist the clanging of the ornaments. A moment later I heard a shatter that was followed by the blood curdling scream of a now believing child. At her feet were the debris of the princess for whom midnight had struck and would never hang from the branch of a Christmas tree ever again. Cinderella had not only left the ball, but apparently turned into Humpty Dumpty – after he fell off the wall. The girl’s sobs were only interrupted by her pleas to request the jolly old elf to bring her a new ornament. We tried to explain that the ornament was rare and the arrival of a replacement was not likely. She was not impressed. Her sorrow was quelled by the arrival of her neighborhood associates. The night ended with little incident. We will see what tomorrow brings. The magic of Christmas is strong, but I fear it is not strong enough to bring back poor Cinderella. She sleeps with the fishes. Actually, she sleeps with the cat litter I threw out, but I digress. Captain out.