Not in Dad’s Chair!
Dad’s Gonna Lose It!
Ahh… Dad’s chair; the humble resting place of a very tired ass at the end of the day. After a long day this is typically where you’ll find me. I feel like it’s my sanctuary to let my overclocked mind cool down a bit and get ready for sleep mode. It’s precious to me, and my son seems to love it too.
For the first four years of our marriage my wife listened to me drone on about those over-sized recliners whenever we found ourselves in a furniture store and about how much I would love to have one. Finally she relented and let me purchase one which quickly became known as “Dad’s chair”. My son decided he loved it early on because he can hop up and sit next to me comfortably. I, of course, love it because my son can sit with me without crowding me and unlike our couch I can put my feet up in this one.
Yes, I know, I could have bought an ottoman, and we had one for a little while, but it’s just not the same. And if you just said “yes it is” then you simply don’t understand the connection between a dad and his special seat.
In the life of a father nothing is private. You have an audience while watching TV, while reading, while working, while on the toilet, while in the shower. Nothing is private and every waking moment of your life feels crowded. It’s a good kind of crowded, but sometimes you just want a break from it. Dad’s chair is a spot that you know no one else will occupy when you decide it’s time to use it. It’s sacred. If I ask my wife or son to let me sit in my chair they will… Most of the time.
This weekend my son had taken a short nap with me in my chair. I laid him down next to me and got up, which woke him, but he still wanted to curl up there for a few minutes while I got ready to leave. In order to tell you this story properly you need to know that my son loves cheese. His second word was to ask for a slice of cheese. Cheese is a food group to my son.
For his love of cheese, my wife gave him a slice as a small snack before we left. While he sat in my chair. Another piece of this story that you need to know is that my son has no clue how big of a bite is too big. So, of course, he decided that half a slice of cheese was a good portion for his tiny mouth. Turned out he was horribly mistaken. From the bedroom I heard the sounds of coughing, followed quickly by gagging. I started towards the living room in case my son started to really choke.
I crossed the threshold just in time to see my wonderful, loving son sitting in his dad’s chair vomiting on his hand and pants, then, disgusted by the substance on his hand, reach out to wipe it on the arm of the chair.
Cue the slow motion, action movie, run while yelling no.
I made it in time to save the upholstery, however, I also got a full view of the horror currently residing in my sanctuary. I’ve mentioned my weak stomach before. It hasn’t gotten any better. On this occasion, though, my wife who usually has enough control to deal with these situations had to leave the room to maintain the contents of her stomach. I was left to deal with the cleanup.
Through much gagging, mouth watering, blinking away tears and praying to God for strength I managed to strip my son, clean him up and maintain the sanctity of dad’s chair. This was a close call though. I’m not exploring water resistant furniture covers.
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