No Daddy Help Me! Mommy Help Me!

My 2-year-old son, X, thinks I’m incompetent.

Whenever I attempt to give him a bath, get him dressed, or put him to bed, he immediately protests.

“No Daddy help me! Mommy help me!”

He does seek my assistance when he wants someone fix his toy, read him a book, or give him a cookie. Otherwise, I’m as useless as floppy disk reader on an iPad.

I must admit that I may have given him reason to distrust my care-giving abilities.

One night, when X and I were home alone, I had sole responsibility for getting the toddler ready for bed. I knew that a fight would ensue so mentally prepared myself for our bedtime showdown.

“X,” I said in a gentle voice. “It’s time for bed.”

“No Daddy help me! Mommy help me!”

“Mommy’s not here,” I said. “So you’re stuck with me.”

X and I were like to MMA fighters as we sized each other up before our battle. He struck first with a blood curdling, “NOOOOOOOOO! I want Mommy!”

I countered with bear hug. With him secured pressed against my chest, I dashed to the bathroom with the screaming toddler flailing the whole way. If you’ve never attempted to run bath water with one hand while trying to contain a toddler with the other, you should add that thrilling experience to your bucket list.

I tried to gently place him in the warm bath water, but X had a death grip on my shirt. In order to get him in the bathtub, I knew I would have to sacrifice my body. I leaned forward until X was safely in the tub and I was drenched from the chest up.

Bath time was relatively uneventful. I gave him a rubber ducky and some soap and let him splash around for 15 minutes while I retreated to my corner for a breather. End round 1.

Round 2 began when I returned to the bathroom to retrieve him. We locked eyes and the bawling resumed. He started crying too.

“I want Mommy!” he screamed. By then my head was hurting and I was ready to throw in the towel. But I refused to be defeated by a two year old.

“No Daddy help me! Mommy help me!”

Snatching X from the tub, I wrapped a towel around him and sprinted to his bedroom. I’m sure I broke the world record for getting a toddler dressed in pajamas and into bed.

“Wait, Daddy,” he pleaded from the side of his crib. But I was tired of waiting

and was ready to put the night’s events behind.

“X,” I said in a stern voice. “Go to sleep.” I turned off the light, closed his bedroom door and went downstairs to finish my cold dinner.

The next day, my wife, KayEm called me at work.

“Hey, Honey,” she said. “Did you forget something last night?”

“I don’t think so,” I searched my mind to see if I could think about anything that I could have missed. Nothing stood out.

“When I got X out of the bed this morning and started to change his diaper, I

noticed one problem. THERE WAS NO DIAPER!” she said. “The baby boy was soaked.”

“No diaper?” I asked. “That’s impossible. Maybe it slipped off during the night.”

“So you’re telling me that the diaper slipped through his pajamas and magically disappeared during the night?” KayEm asked.

“Yes,” I said. “That is exactly what I’m saying because there is no way that I could have got him dressed without putting on his diaper.” I could tell KayEm was shaking her head as we spoke.

“How could you forget his diaper?” she asked.

“Do you have any idea how hard he is to deal with when you aren’t here,” I said. “At least I remember to take the old diaper off. I should get points for that, right?”

Then KayEm fell silent on the other end of the line and I knew that she was still shaking her head and reevaluating her decision to marry such an incompetent moron.

From now on, I plan to listen to the toddler’s wisdom: “No Daddy help me! Mommy help me!” Being a dad will be so much easier.

Stay Strong,

Question: What has been your most embarrassing parenting gaffe?

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