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kenny's long day

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Tokyo, 2009.06.08

Kenny was left in daddy's care today because Mari had a rare social engagement in the evening. It wasn't the first time I've taken care of him by myself, but it certainly was the first time when he had a close call.

In the mornings I take him to daycare. In an effort to keep him from getting in trouble -- while exposing him to the idea of using the toilet -- I leave the door to the little toilet-room* to encourage him to hang around. While I was washing my hands, I reached down to pull him away from the area behind the toilet. That's when I noticed that he'd got the toilet-scrubber out of its holder and had his hand in the grundgy water therein.

Before I could grab his hand, he popped the dipping finger into his mouth. My shrieks of dismayed disgust echoing about in the little room, I took him to the main bathroom where the usable sink is and scrubbed his hands. I didn't know what to do about the bacteria surely colonizing his mouth. So I took him to daycare.

Nine hours later, I was back to pick him up. When I appeared at the door he looked up, saw me, and without a change of pace or facial expression made a bee-line for me. He gave me a long hug and let me hug him back, an unusual thing in of itself. And he was strangely quiet, only pointing and babbling at/about a few things instead of the long litany of things that usually catches his eye.

I stopped to buy some green onion on the way home, and we spent twenty minutes watching the trains (which he loves). We got home before 19:00 and I was all set to bathe him and make dinner but knew that first he'd need a snack. Usually, Mari picks him up from the daycare and then feeds him from the breast when they get home. To put off the inevitable crying and demands (no breast-milk would be forthcoming!) I sat down with him and shared some water and crackers.

Then, to my surprise, he fell asleep.

It was past 20:30 when I set him down to start the tub and make dinner. He woke shortly after that, and I fed him with the food Mari had left for the evening. He was eating fairly well, so I started eating some miso soup.

At which point he began choking. Not just gagging or sputtering, but unable-to-breath choking. Terrified, I could only think of taking him to the bathroom and doing the "infants and toddlers" Heimlich maneouver. I pulled the bib off of him and the larger soft fabric feeding whatsit he wears beneath that, then pulled him struggling from the highchair.

And he vomited.

I've never been so happy!

We spent the next half an hour washing him up and having our normal evening bath. Then I got him all dried up (he even briefly held the brush while I used the hair dryer) and into his pj's and into bed without too much fuss. I passed out on the floor of his room while tending to the small upsets that usually follow his going to bed.

Mari woke me when she got in at 23:00 and I confessed to everything.

*Japanese homes have two rooms where western rooms have a single bathroom. The toilet is isolated from the rest (sink, shower, tub).

rand()m quote

In the wake of 9/11, we [in America] have made the decision as a society that we can never again create something in which we can take pride, for fear that someone will destroy it. Moreover, we must suppress any trace of individualism, lest someone have the desire to rise above the bland sameness that protects us. I have, alas, no idea how to recapture our courage.

—Anonymous post to boingboing.net, 2009