Baby Daddy 40: I No Longer Have Nipples

YES!!! I am posting twice in one month! Hell hath frozen over!! And what am I talking about? Of course, my kiddo. As I may or may not have shared in a previous post, my son is walking and trying to run. The Boy Beast Wonder is kicking ass and taking names. Unfortunately, he has not yet gotten the hang of running. He will start to walk, then run, then fall, then face-plant. Now, when he does, my son will often reach out for something to hold himself up. Adorable, right?

Wrong. Why? Because he reaches out to me. Now don't get me wrong, I am not one of those heartless fathers. The problem is that I am never wearing a shirt. Why, you may ask? Because we keep our house around 72-74 degrees Fahrenheit. That means that I am always sweating. So when my son reaches out for me to save him, he often times will grab my nipples. If I am lucky, he will fall on his face. If I am not, my son will actually grip my nipples in an atomic nipple twister, and then pull himself upright.

This issue has gotten serious enough that, when my son reaches out, I will actually pull-away. I'm sure, on some level, that I am damaging my son's psyche. On some level, I am giving him the deep-seeded daddy issues that will drive him toward getting a tramp-stamp of a butterfly, ass-less chaps, and making his money in tips. At the same time, I DON'T HAVE NIPPLES!

That's right! He has ripped at my chest so much that I just have two callouses for nipples. It looks like I used my chest to play the guitar. I just walked into a frozen room, ripped off my clothes, and began strumming! It looks like I got into some kinky BDSM shit, and was hanging from the ceiling for a while. 50 Shades of Grey ain't got shit on my kid.

What's worse? He even used my nipples to help poo! My son was walking toward me, arms stretched out for me to pick him up. This was early, before I knew to be afraid. Sure enough, my son fell and grabbed my nipples. He righted himself quickly, and I thought that would be it. I was wrong. Suddenly, he grips  down harder, turns his hands, dips his hips, *ugh*, looks up at me, and smiles. Then the smell. That's right, he used an atomic nipple twister on me, so that he could then ready and launch a biological warhead at me. I don't know what was worse - the pain in my nipples, or the pain in my nose. Secret answer "C" - the pain in my soul.

Moral of the Story: My son is walking and my nipples are missing. I will be posting a picture on a milk carton, shortly.