The warm Northern California sunshine, a full kiddie pool, a delightful deck, and a cute, active little naked boy. What could possibly ruin this idealized May afternoon?
Splinters, that's what. More specifically, a few dozen of them, all embedded in the poor naked boy's bum. That's right- Ronan's posterior bore the brunt of his determined yet oft-falling exploration of our redwood deck. Of course his hands, feet, and knees suffered too, but it seems that dual-purpose diaper/fall cushion has conditioned Ronan to plop down heedlessly whenever his balance failed.
It was strangely similar to when Ronan's Uncle Todd, decades ago, jumped (also while naked, but he was almost 10 years old at the time) into a prickly pear cactus. I remember chuckling whilst listening to the agonized pleas to stop the spine removal. Schadenfreude!
Uncle Todd, twenty years after pioneering nude cacus diving, at his Hooding ceremony. You've come a long way T!
If you have never removed splinters from a one-year-old's buttocks before, I can only say that it is a memorable experience. The command, "hold still" has to be accompanied by overwhelming force (parent #1) with helpless (hapless?) fishing for slivers with a needle & tweezers (parent #2). If you get one, it's beginner's luck. Two removed and you're a certified professional. Three and you've got dexterity more impressive than a neurosurgeon. You also have an innate hatred of children. I doubt there is anyone foolhardy or cold enough to attempt four... that would require the impossible combination of pig-headed determination, adroit fingers, no pulse, and total deafness. We gave up after removing two of the larger splinters... eventually the forty or so remaining fell out on their own. Lesson learned, I suppose.