BOP TILL YOU DROP

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There is nothing like the special father-son bonding of being stuck in the back of an SUV together.

My son and I recently got to share this joyous event, something he found quite hysterical, in particular the part where Daddy got wedged between a seat and the floorboard.

It started innocently enough. Parker and I decided to make a trip to the grocery store. I enjoy taking the kids to the grocery store, because I am allowed to make animal noises throughout the shopping trip. Do this without children and people tend to label you.

When we arrived, Parker and I had a lengthy discussion over whether to use the blue or red race car cart. I suggested red. Parker suggested blue, because it was tucked behind 71,000 other carts and would take about six weeks to get to. After a few minutes, I convinced him to sit in the red cart. My son is almost 2, and he will stand his ground on issues, so I have to be firm and direct with him, using a soothing yet stern tone, and refusing to give him. After that doesn’t work, I give him a lollipop, and he complies.

So lollipop in hand, we started our shopping excursion. One of Parker’s favorite grocery store games is the Bop game. Bop is a very simple game, but apparently gobs of fun: you take off your shoes, throw them as far as you can, and scream, “BOP!”

Oh, and one rule of Bop — Daddy is not allowed to take the shoes and hide them under the bananas, lest the entire grocery store hear, “BOP! BOP! BOP!” amid tears of sheer horror. Daddy plays shoe retriever for much of the trip because it’s just easier. Of course, I always grab the shoes and say loudly, “Parker, do NOT throw these shoes again, young man!” I then take a really strange path through the store so that I don’t run into the same people twice, and I can continue to give the impression that I am somehow in control and putting a firm end to Bop. Bop never ends.

A while into the trip, Parker took a Bop timeout and dropped down low in his seat, hiding from me. Passersby thought he was playing peek-a-boo. “How cute!” they would remark. How wrong, I thought. When Parker goes hiding in public, it’s for one thing and one thing only. Parents, you know what Parker was doing. Nonparents - you don’t want to know what Parker was doing.

After Parker came out of hiding, I knew that I had to take care of the issue, because, let’s face it, we’re shopping for food here. Realizing I had left the diaper bag in the car, I parked the cart and grabbed Parker to go for a quick change in the car. I am the master of the car change. I’m like a pit crew. I stand outside the door and fold the seat back making an instant changing table, and in a matter of seconds baby is clean. I may even flip on the radio for some theme music, just to kinda show off.

But this time would be a little different, since there was now a torrential downpour outside. No pit crew. No theme music. I would have to conduct the change within the car, which makes me somewhat less effective.

I sprinted through the parking lot, trying to cover Parker up, but also noting that Parker is, for lack of a better term, full. Parker thinks the race to the car is great fun, and is tickled at the strange facial contortions Daddy is making.

When we get to the car, I figure the best bet will be for me to get in the back seat and place Parker in the far back of the SUV, leaning over the seats to change him. I set him down and commence to changing. It’s a somewhat longer reach from the top of the seat to the floor than I realize, but I manage. Once changed, Parker realizes that the back of the car is like a big playpen, and there are parts where Daddy cannot reach him. It was at this point a lasso would have come in handy.

Eventually, Parker gets within reach and I corral him. So now I have a squirming child in one hand and biological waste in the other. I’m pretty much ready to get out of the car at this point. I reach to the door to spring myself free and, at that point, the realization kicks in - we have safety latches on the door. The only way to open the rear doors is from the outside. Seems like a good idea every time except for this one. The rain is still coming down, so there is no one to come to my rescue. But - and just trust me on this - I was not going to spend much more time in that car. At that point, I sat Parker on the seat and handed him a book. No, he can’t read, but I figured he could chew the corner for a minute or something, long enough to let me come up with a plan. My plan involved crawling to the front seat and out the front door, which sounded like a great idea, until I realized that (a) I am not as nimble as I once was and (b) I was still carrying a diaper.

Let’s just say that anyone walking past car at the time probably thought I was trying to tunnel underneath the passenger’s seat. Eventually, I made it out of the car, retrieved Parker and disposed of what needed disposing of. Parker, I am sure, was happy to be changed so that we could get back into the store continue our primary task. Playing Bop.