Pour some sugar on me

The other day I noticed the Elder Boy digging at his crotch. This is usually a sign that he needs to urinate. "Boy," I said, "Do you need to go urinate?" Nothing. He gave me a look, and kept right on digging at his crotch. "E..." I repeated, a bit more forcefully, "do you need to go pee?" An annoyed "NO!" is what I got. I decided to forget it. He nearly never has an accident anymore, and is even ok to sleep freestyle (read: sans diaper.) I figured, he'd know if he needed to pee.

Fast forward to bath time (which is actual shower time these days.) I decided to use the occasion to inspect his genitalia to see what was going on down there. After a somewhat tense inspection I noted that the Boy was a bit raw, that he had something going on, and that it actually looked like jock itch. I was stumped. Do prepubescent boys even get jock itch? I wasn't sure about that, what I was sure of, how to doctor the area. Powder.

So, after our shower, I told the Boy, " Boy, we need to doctor your crotch." I don't think he actually knew what 'his crotch' was, still he wanted no part of it being doctored. "NO!" He said, "I don't want my crock doctored...I want to watch Cartoon Network...I want Wyatt to go to bed." You see Dear Reader, at the time, Wyatt was on our bed watching Diego (Dora's animal saving cousin) on cable, with My Lovely Bride, who was more interested in watching the floor show that was me and E discussing doctoring his crotch.

I decided to try and reason with the Boy, "Ethan," I said, "its almost night time for Wy Wy. Let him watch the end of Diego. Why don't you let me doctor your crotch. It will make it feel better. I can put powder on it."

Powder got him. I don't know if he actually knew what powder was, but he was intrigued enough to let me go grab the container, and begin my attempt to doctor his crotch. "Ethan," I explained, "I need you to lay on your back on the bed and pull down your pants so I can apply the powder to the area." No go. He wanted none of that, "I'll do it..." is what he told me.

Fearing what sort of doctoring the Boy would do to himself with a full bottle of baby powder in our room, I opted for a compromise. "Boy," I said, "You can doctor yourself, but I'm going hang onto the powder bottle. I'll put the powder in your hand. Then you rub it on your crotch," as I mimed rubbing powder onto my own crotch, "like this."

Back on the bed, Wy still watched Diego oblivious to floor show in front of the bed. Cart, she was hooked, as she watched Ethan gingerly pulling down his pants as he held out his right hand. I responded by carefully pouring a fair amount of powder into the palm of said hand. That's when it happened. The Boy looked at the powder, and then me, and back at the powder, and then, with the biggest grin he said, I shit you not, "IS IT SUGAR...?" as his hand slowly started moving toward his mouth.

"NO!" I said, "It is not sugar. It is powder, put it on your crotch!"

Thinking back, I'm not sure what was more disturbing. The fact that the Elder Boy is such a sugar junkie that he would have actually eaten baby powder. Or, that he thought I was such father of the year material, that I would have had him rub sugar all over his crock!

Until I BLOG again...I'm hot, sticky sweet