town, so it was going to be only the two of us. This was actually fine with Ellen because as much as she loved Lynne, Ellen had not quite gotten over what is now known as the âBaby Bottle Incidentâ for which I am responsible because it was I who left them alone for over an hour without proper instructions. When I finally arrived home, I found both of them and our neighbor crying inconsolably. When I stepped into the kitchen, Lynne nearly leapt from Ellenâs arms into mine as if to say âFinally, someone who knows what sheâs doing!â Yeah, right. Anyway, I was looking forward to having Lynne to myself and already planning all the things we would do togetherâthe park, the zoo, a museum or two. It was going to be awesome.
It was awesome. There were a few mistakes, such as taking her to an outdoor museum where she could touch and climb on the displays, then taking her to an indoor museum where she could not. There was forgetting the diaper bag, which is always a bigno-no. I recall a few others, but none compares to THE NIGHT OF THE EARACHE, which will live forever in our family lore.
Lynne and I had had a nice little dinner at a neighborhood coffee shop, and after dinner she played with toys in the kidsâ area while I graded papers. Time slipped by until I realized it was nearly seven, way past bath time and practically past bedtime. I gathered my papers and bundled her up. As we walked to the car, Lynne pulled on her ear and said it hurt. I gave her a reassuring snuggle, figuring a warm blanket, bottle, and bedtime would do the trick.
As we stepped into the house the phone was ringing. I grabbed it as Lynne and I headed up the stairs.
âHello?â
âIâm just calling to check in and see how things are going.â It was my newly-created brother-in-law. His words sounded more like âHeeey, Iâms jusâ calling to chick in and say hower things goinâ.â He doesnât have an accent. He was a bit under the influence.
âWeâre fine, John. Just fine. How are you two doing?â I went into my room and put Lynne on the bed. I started to undress her which was hard to do because she started squirming.
âWeâre good. Yeah. Things are good. Well, yoursister isnât doing too good.â
âWhat? Whatâs wrong? What happened?â I put my hand on Lynneâs chest to hold her still as I pulled off her very full and aromatic diaper.
âNothing really. Well, sheâs got the shits. I think she ate something.â
âI thought it was the water you had to stay away from in Mexico.â
âNo, we werenât drinking any water, but we were drinking!â He started to laugh. It was about this time Lynne started to wail.
âWhatâs wrong, honey?â
âI just told you.â
âNo, not you. Lynne.â
âWhatâs wrong with Lynne? Is she okay? Sheâs crying? Whatâs going on?â Suddenly, he was sober. âLet me talk to her.â
I gave Lynne the phone. She had enough words by this time to carry on a short conversation.
âDaddy?â
I took this momentary reprieve to drop the disgusting diaper in a bag and then into the wastebasket knowing full well the dog would probably be at it before I could manage to get the bag out of the house. I went back into the bedroom, hands fullof ointment, powder, and diaper.
âMy ear hurts,â Lynne said to her father. I took the phone away. She voiced her displeasure by screaming and crying giant tears that rolled down her little cheeks and plopped on to the comforter. I could hear my sister yelling in the background, while John was yelling something back at her. I tried my best to get his attention.
âJohn! John!â
âWhat? Huh? Iâm going to call my mom. She can help. Weâll get you some help. Put Lynne back on the phone.â
âI donât need your mother to come over, for heavenâs sake.â I
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