“I’M Spartacus!”

The Missus went back to one of her Alma Maters in the Midwest for four days this week to a college reunion thingie, leaving me in sole charge of the one item we both care equally about – The Boy. I’ve never soloed for four days before, and was certain I was not going to be up to the task.

The first couple days were easy, as he spent most of them at daycare. The weekend worried me though, as that’s kinda the peak of my work week. Even after we booked a sitter for half the day (a miracle of its own), I was filled with a creeping dread that I would fuck everything up after she left and he would learn what a fraud I am, parenting-wise, and hate me forever.

Instead, The Man Cub and I had a blast today. Very little time was spent bending to his will (unless you count book readings, but I’m thinking mainly of his beloved arts&crafts stuff which I hate); instead he followed me around and drew at my side while I worked, and danced and drew some more, then we watched part of the first new “Star Wars” film on HBO, with the little kid actor and all the CGI-muppets and the pod race (which dazzled his tiny reptile brain!) and danced and drew some more. He didn’t each much dinner though, so after dinner I sat down with some crackers, and he wanted some of those. Then I sat down with some grapes and he wanted a lot of them, then he wanted some of my York Peppermint Patty... I’m sure it’s not the most nutritious meal he’ll ever eat, but at least he finally ate something. Breakfast and lunch efforts bore little fruit, eating-wise.

Oh yeah, he also has a single Sharpie dimple in the exact middle of his chin. I’m waiting till after I can shoot it in morning light before I try to scrub it away. It looks fairly hilarious. “I’m Spartacus!”

Tomorrow I’m going to take him to Safeway and get one of their already-cooked chickens, which so far have never failed to meet with his culinary approval. Gonna get come Green Giant corn and we’ll finish off the Ruffles and we’ll have a feast fit for kings before I put him down for his nap, watch my taped Sunday morning news shows and finish the rest of my work before we go pick The Missus up in the afternoon. From here, everything looks good.

He’s a different animal at night. The explosion of energy just before the big crash (“Dancing, Daddy, dancing!”), the complicated negotiations regarding horsies [ManCubspeak for his pajamas with horses on them] (”No horsies Daddy.”) and bunnies [his stuffed crib companion] (“Bunny? ...[thinking about it]... No, no bunny...”). The little thing he said that I couldn’t make out after I had tucked him in and was creeping out of the room... Really, I’ve had a great time since The Sitter left. I’m sure at least some of it was due to the fact that I’m so caught up on work obligations, it freed me up to really be In The Moment and check the boy out like I haven’t had the opportunity to in too long a time. And of course, The Sitter was totally charmed. At one point when she was here, he was getting agitated wanting something and not being able to articulate it. So I gave him my hand and said, “Show me what you want. Take me there.” And he took my finger and led me right to the cough medicine I had just been saying it sounded like he needed, then pointed to it. We’ve gotta be careful. He understands more than he’s letting on!

Anyhow, I was skeered this weekend was going to be a horrible nightmare, but not so! and I think it’s all gonna be gravy till The Missus returns tomorrow and reassumes the primary parental responsibilities.

Because even though I did better this weekend than I expected to, I’d be the first to admit I’m no Spartacus. I’m just her wing-man.