One Man's thoughts, rants, and mumblings on family, life, and baseball.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Am I My Brothers Keeper?
About 2 months ago Ang and I came up with an idea to keep Trot from wetting the bed. Very simply, it's me going upstairs around 10:30 every night and carrying his comatose body to the bathroom and getting him to pee, all the while hoping he doesn't decide to let go and hit me, the wall, or the floor before going in the toilet.
Tonight he took it to another level; after finishing his business he lets out a fart that would have been better than the bean eating scene from "Blazing Saddles" which causes me (Yes. I may be 42 physically but I'm actually 8 mentally) to bust out laughing.
As I'm trying to pick him up and carry him back to his room he mumbles "It wasn't me. It was Rakes" which only makes me laugh even harder. Before I can put him back into bed he says it again, which by this point I'm CRYING.
Even in the deepest hold of REM it is ingrained in him not to take the blame, and like a thousand times before when I ask "WHO DID THIS"? I get the always classic blame the other guy, no matter how definitive the evidence is.