I work one day during the week.  Let me back up here.  I go play for one day a week at my office and I leave the “work” to a babysitter.  She takes the Worm all day and I get some much needed adult time.  During this glorious day, I carry on conversations with people other than myself!  I see clients and do adult things like speak in full sentences.  I look forward to it.  It’s a brief, but welcome respite from my SAHD duties.  (I just found out that there’s an acronym for me, Stay At Home Dad or SAHD).  In other words, getting a day at the office keeps me sane and able to handle the rest of my week, sort of like what coke does for Charlie Sheen.

Yesterday morning, Gavin was cranky.  Not happy with the rigors of baby life, he wouldn’t stop fussing.  (You know those mornings, right?)  So, I decided to get him over to the babysitter’s early, so that she could deal with him spend more face time with him.  I grabbed everything I needed for his day (car seat, diaper bag, food, formula, toys, stroller) and everything I needed for mine (kit, backpack, laptop, phone, treatment table, travel bin, lunch, tea).  The truck was packed and ready to go.  The only forgotten item was my brain.  Leaving the house was a blur for me.  I could only remember bits of it.  There’s no other valid reason for this except the baby mind meld.  (Has he been watching Star Trek re-runs late at night?)  In that clever Spock-like maneuver, Gavin jostled my mental acuity and I drove away from the house with the garage door open.  A brief moment of clarity made me realize it once I got on the freeway.  I panic and turn around to race home.  All I’m visualizing is a group of neighbors standing in front of my garage, mouths agape, and the Hoarders TV crew filming their next episode.  Luckily, as I approached the house there was no one there.  (What? Am I not good enough for Hoarders?)  I close the garage and leave again…for the second time.

At this point, I’ve lost 30 minutes of my life (actually, I don’t want that 30 minutes back.  Keep it.)  I head back to my original destination, the babysitter’s house.  Of course, once I get there, the babysitter is not home.  Her husband tells me that she’s at my house waiting for me.  Brilliant.  I drive back home and drop Gavin off with the babysitter.  (I probably threw him at her, but he deserved it.)  I leave the house again…for the third time.

After all the morning fracas is sorted and I show up late to work, I conveniently lock myself out on the back patio…Argh!  Blast this mind meld trick!  It’s still working on my brain!

Young grasshopper, you have learned the art of confusing your adversary.  You win again.

Gavin = 5; Dylan = 2

Don't worry, it won't happen again. I'm wearing protection. 😉