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    Wednesday, December 19, 2012

    A Daddy and a Sick Boy

     NOT My son
      My day of bodily fluids began when my little boy and I were hanging out with out friends at the mall.

      My friends have two kids, the same age as our kids (3 and 1) but their kids are the opposite genders of ours, so the other Daddy and I like to hang out with the four kids and make a fun day of it.

      Well, we got done with our romp in the mall play area and headed up to Chik-Fil-A for lunch...ya know being good Christians, we only eat there when in the mall...

     While we're eating MJ, my son says the fateful words: "Daddy, I gotta go pee pee".  He just went, so I don't think he really needs to go, so I ask him to hold it.

      Literally not even a minute or two later he says: "Daddy, I'm sorry but, I pee peed in my pants!"

    "Oh man" I think to myself, "I don't have a change of clothes, because I thought this wouldn't happen."  Shortly after I verbalize this, my friend comes to the rescue because his 3 year old girl has a pair of back up pants, which are purple...which my son firmly believes are for girls only.

     Somehow, in the bathroom I convince him to wear the purple pants and now I am carrying his wet pants around the mall dining area (not fun).

      MJ continues to be upset about the color of his pants until my friend again saves the day by reminding my little guy that the Hulk has purple pants.  So armed with this knowledge, my son proudly wears his purple pants back home.

      All seems well at the Nelson household until around 1am when my son comes into our bedroom and states in a miserably sad and discomforted voice: "Daddy, my belly hurts".

      I'm delirious from being woken up, so the full reality of what is about to unfold doesn't strike until my wife screams: "He's going to throw up!  Get him in the bathroom".

      Then it happens.  I see him dry heaving, knowing it won't be dry for too much longer, I cup my hand under his mouth and run him to the bathroom.  He didn't make it anywhere close...I caught it all in my wee little hand.

      At this point, I feel horrible for the little guy and we give him a late night hot bath to ease his stomach that is causing him to writhe in pain.  He calms down, gets on new jammies and asks to hop in bed with us, which we loving parents say "Of course".

      At around 3am the poor guy pooped his pants a tiny bit and I rush him back into the bathroom to finish, only to hear him finish as I unzip his jammies...it was an unpleasant clean up.  Then while I'm cleaning him up, he begins to vomit again!

      We clean him off, put him in his 3rd pair of jammies and he wants his own bed this time.  He eventually sleeps through the night and wakes up still pretty sick...

      Many reading this may think: I never want to be a Daddy, or a parent, ever, but don't let this story turn you away from the amazing blessing that kids are!

     I share this little story to display that if a fallen, sinful man such as myself can find it within myself to love my kids through crap (pun intended) like this, how much more does God, who is perfect and utterly loving put up with ours?

      Can you recall how many times you needed cleaned off from when you messed yourself and God was there to clean you up?  I know I have way too many to number, yet each time God in His love did clean me off, wiped me up, put new jammies on me and healed my brokeness!  Daddy stuff can get MESSY but even in the messiness, it's full of lessons.