Paulie's Dad at Work

Three-point-four-year-old Paulie and his dad are at the supper table finishing off their hamburgers.

“When is mamma coming back home?” Paulie began, looking up at dad with those big brown eyes.

“We’ve talked about that, honey.”

“But the hospital is so awful. It smells yucky.” a persistent son went on, shoving his remaining fries around the plate.

“I know, your mom said the same, but it won’t be long now,” his dad looked up with a tired grin.

“Why did she have to stay? You said she’d be back soon.” the youngster’s whine creeping in.

“That’s what I thought too,” dad admitted, resigned to the state of things.

“Grams said Jamie was with her there,” spoken like a news flash, a shocker.

“Did she? What else did she say about him?” he replied, ready for damage control once again.

“Just that he needed to be with momma longer…”

Relief!

 “Ah. That’s right. They had to help each other, You know, mom stuff.”

After dad stacked the supper dishes in the machine and they’d watched Kiddie Kartoons, Paulie makes for his bedroom for his favorite book and a surprise.

“Why can’t Jamie drink our milk?”

“Grams said he couldn’t?” he figured.

“Yeah.”

“Um, well, momma milk is much better, he needs to get his vitamins from her milk,” his attempt at kid logic less than satisfactory in his ears.

“The doctors can’t give him the vitamins in the hospital? Mine are yummy.”

“Guess not. Anyway, Jamie can’t chew that kind. He’s without teethies at the moment,” dad felt he had got off easy this time.

“Oh, I forgot.” Climbing up into his lap. “Daddy. Does Jamie like momma milk?” he asked with all the seriousness of a professor.

“And how! Mom told me he was always hungry,” the young father looked at the son whose turning little wheels never ceased to amaze him.

“Can’t he drink momma milk at home, if momma’s here too?”

“You got your thinking cap on today, I see, Bub.” he sighed. “You’re right. But baby Jamie is too small to leave the incubator.”

“What’s an ink-a-gator? Does it bite?” the little one replied, alarmed.

The giant smile and barely caught chuckle was his father’s response to the most perfect thing he’d heard all day. The comedians wouldn’t stand a chance with his son.

“No, Paulie. It’s a special box they keep babies in to help them grow.” This was the best he could come up with.

“Is it like the stove when mom makes bread? She lets it grow in the warm oven,” the reply.

 My son is brilliant! dad thought. Paulie handed his dad the card he had colored with a baby and a heart on it. Dad smiled and congratulated his son on his artistic flair.

“You know, thinking about it, your idea is a pretty good picture of what the incubator does. The incubator box also keeps a watch on his heart and stuff, little babies need breathing help too. Maybe his ticker will be strong like the one you drew for him. Maybe one day.”

“I can help him breathe, I’ve got leftover air I could give him…” he added with a great blow, better than his last birthday cake had seen. “I can keep him warm too, like Friskie when he cuddles at night.”

“Good point. When he gets big enough, you and Friskie will help him out for sure. He only gets to cuddle mom now.”

“Mom is too busy to cuddle,” he added, now climbing down and running into his bedroom.

“Why do you say that?” his dad asked after following him to the door, for the first time perplexed.

“She has so much to do, she always tells me. Jamie is lucky.” Paulie added matter-of-factly.

“You are extra lucky too. She is going to stay home with both of you for a while when they come home. She had to get a cesarean and needs to recover.” he then realized his son would be stuck on that one. He was stuck getting the pajamas on over that one.

“Is that sea sarian a seasick like I had on the ferry to Uncle Sean’s house?”

“Almost. They had to take Jamie out during an operation on mom’s tummy.”

“Ouch!” he replied, crinkling his nose up.

“You got it. She has to stay in bed for some time. So you get to be the busy one. Me too. When mom comes home, we get to take care of mom and Jamie together.” still concentrated on the tucking-in stage.

“Really?! Are you gonna make us scrambled eggs?” a moment of excitement entering.

“You bet, well, grams will help us too.”

“Grams makes better eggs. Can we have pizza?”

“Hey, you always liked my eggs.” disappointed as the revelation outed the truth. His dad continued, “You are right though, it’s about time I learned more than eggs and toast. Grams’ll give us a few lessons in the cooking department.”

“Washing machine too?” the savvy child added, grinning, remembering the last adventure in laundering they had without mom.

“Nope. Got that covered. Finally.” another smile warming dad’s worn face.

 Their new son would need lots of loving care. Paulie’s dad had determined to become the world’s greatest dad to the ‘world’s greatest brother’ he had in front of him.

“Boy, Jamie is lucky!”

“Why d’you say that?”

“He’ll get a better mom and dad than I got…” the tiny little jealous bone had finally poked itself out. Dad would do his utmost to keep it down.

“We, our whole family, are new and improved. Like the washing powder.” He was starting to get the hang of it.

Paulie giggled at that, picturing his parents boxed up with ‘Super Suds’ written on them. After long peals of laughter, he added, “Yeah, just like on TV.”

His dad prayed with him, kissed him on the cheeks.

“Daddy, can we get a new sister too?”

“Sounds like a great idea. I’ll ask mom about it when she’s home.”

“I think mom’ll give permission. She let me have a kitten even though she feeds him and cleans the cat box,” he added, yawning at the end.

“Well, you get to do the cat box while momma is poorly then. OK?”

“OK,” an even greater yawn appeared.

“Night, night, Paulie. Sleep tight,” he said at the door.

“…and God, fix it please, and bring Jamie and momma home soon,” Paulie ’s dad heard as his boy fell asleep.

“Amen.” his dad, with misty eyes, closed the door.

He made the dreaded phone call and heard good news for a change. His son would make it.

Paulie has strong prayers, he thought, free to cry at long last, in thankfulness.