Cowboy trying to raise a son: The white camouflage story.


Back about five years ago, I was working a second shift job at a prison.  I’d usually stay up pretty late, and wake up about the same.  Well, one particular morning, I woke up to find my son standing up in his crib, covered in diaper rash cream.  Well, more to the point, most of his crib was covered in diaper rash cream.

Just sit for a second, and imagine that.   A small baby, covered from head to toe in diaper rash cream, standing up looking at you, with the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen.  All I could do, was shake my head and laugh.  Not saying I wasn’t shocked and upset to see it.  Sometimes though, laughing is about all you can do.  Especially, when he holds out his arms to be picked up.

When you’re precious baby wants to be picked up, you know there’s no refusing.  Even when they are covered in something you’d rather not get on you.  Trying to explain to his mom what happened, got even more interesting.  After giving him a long bath, full of scrubbing off the stuff, we spent the next hour cleaning his crib together.  More like, me cleaning, and him crawling around to his favorite songs.

Since before, and after, that day, we have been inseparable.   Back then, I loved watching and playing with him.  Today, it rings even more true.  We got our bad times, sad times, and everything in between.  There still isn’t a day that goes by, that I don’t look at him, and think I am one lucky dad.

Published by gunfighterfiction

Veteran and all around good ole cowboy

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