The perils of being an 'Underwear Guy'...

My very fun two-and-a-half year old, Caden, seems to enjoy the utter silly-ness of his daddy's sense of humor.

Recently, as I was getting ready in the morning, and I was about to get Caden dressed, he commented that I was only wearing underwear, just as he was. I said "That's right, buddy. I guess that makes us 'Underwear Guys', huh?!" For some reason, he loved this idea. In his mind, maybe that's along the lines of superheroes such as Batman, Superman, and Spiderman, that he's so fond of (without having ever seen any such shows or movies, mind you - clearly it's an innate ability of men to enjoy superheroes, even from a very young age!)

So he began every morning to parade into our room in his undies, and when he happens to find daddy also not yet fully dressed, he'll gleefully exclaim "Daddy, we're Underwear Guys!", as if someone, somewhere is just waiting for us to spring into action! 'Oh, no, Sally! I've run out of clean underwear.' 'Never fear, the UNDERWEAR GUYS are here!" Or ...something.

So one night after his bath a few weeks ago, we asked Caden to go get his jammies and his underwear, so we could help him get dressed for bed. Well, he came in with his underwear, and I, being in quite the silly mood, decided to make my son laugh by taking his undies from him and proceeding to place them on top of my head. (I'm convinced this is a silly dad instinct)

He then of course cracked up and found this hilarious.

My wife, however, seemed to find this way more funny than she typically does such stunts of mine. And she appeared to be fixated to the top of my head, where some sort of silly underwear (the Incredibles, Thomas the Train, C-SPAN, who knows?) was perched on my noggin. As she also seemed to be having trouble breathing, I asked her why she found this so amusing. Between trying to catch a few breaths, she managed to wheeze out "Caden....where...did....you get...those underwear from?!"

At this point I began to feel a bit of alarm.

"From there!" Caden exclaimed, pointing, to my horror, at the hamper outside our laundry room, and NOT, I repeat, NOT his bedroom dresser.

This was about the time I looked at my wife and said "this underwear is dirty, isn't it?" My wife gleefully nodded while simultaneously shrieking with laughter, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

Thus I swiftly extricated the aforementioned cotton briefs from my cranial area. And sure enough, they were soiled. Not just dirty, mind you, but more along the lines of something from a diaper. Let's just say that using the word thick would not exactly be stretching the truth. You see, Caden at this time was in the middle of being potty-trained, so the whole wiping thing was not yet a skill in his repertoire.

After having snatched the vile undies from my head, I then went through the emergency-checking-for-poop-on-your-head-in-the-mirror-while-your-family-can't-breathe-from-laughing-so-hard-dance. You know the one.

So this is why I warn all current and future fathers out there that there are indeed perils in serving as an underwear guy.

Maybe this makes me the Johnny Cochran of daddy-dom, but here's my new slogan for when such duty calls:

If it's white, it's quite all right
But if it's brown, put the darn thing down!

Don't say you haven't been warned.