Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [9]
I tried to get a better look at the contents of the pot, then thought better of it. I’d say it smelled like crap, but that particular odor was emanating from Grace, who lolled around in her bouncy chair by the kitchen table.
I tapped Dad on the shoulder. Grace pooped, I signed, gripping my right thumb with my left hand and then pulling it out—one of my favorite descriptive signs.
Signing was a bad way to start our conversation, as Dad predictably shrugged and looked confused.
“Grace has a poopy diaper,” I repeated, this time out loud so he’d understand.
He still looked puzzled. “How do you know?”
“It’s my hearing that’s impaired, not my sense of smell.”
I meant it to come out funny, but Dad must have thought I was being snarky. He sighed dramatically and hustled Grace out of the buckles. A moment later he stuck a finger under her onesie and grimaced.
“Damn. I just changed it.”
“Do you want me to do it?”
“No, Piper,” he snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of changing a diaper, thank you very much.”
I shrunk back as he held her at arm’s length and dumped her onto the changing table in the hallway. “I was just offering. That’s all,” I said quietly.
Dad didn’t reply, just huffed and puffed his way through the diaper change like it was a full-contact sport. He didn’t even notice Grace kicking her feet into the remnants of her poopy diaper, and when he tried to corral her feet she used her lightning-fast ninja reflexes to smear poop across his shirt, then belly-laughed at his outraged response. It was such an infectious, uninhibited laugh that I almost busted out chuckling too. But then I caught sight of Dad’s face. In the end I just watched from the doorway, knowing how much he needed my help, but also how much he needed me not to help. Life in the business world must have seemed so much saner.
Finally he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, Grace’s smelly feet clamped in his hands. “I’m sorry, Piper. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just . . . I didn’t expect to be in this situation. And I guess I’m really too old to be doing this, you know?”
“Doing what?”
“Raising a child. Being there for her twenty-four/seven, that sort of thing.”
I didn’t know what he expected me to say, but my silence clearly annoyed him. I guess he thought this kind of honesty and openness would be therapeutic, but all I could think was that Grace wasn’t the only child in the house. I was his child too, and I didn’t need him to be there for me 24/7—I’d have settled for just a few minutes of undivided attention now and again. There was a time he used to help me with my math homework, and spent long evenings thrashing Finn and me at poker. When was that? It felt like another lifetime.
He shook his head as he realized I wouldn’t be bailing him out with some phony line about what a great dad he’d always been.
“I guess I just haven’t got the energy for this anymore,” he sighed, without a hint of shame or regret.
I looked at him—the thinning salt-and-pepper hair and the poop-stained polo shirt—and thought to myself, Yeah, but then again, you never did, did you?
CHAPTER 6
The website Dumb.com had already been taken. Maybe I should have anticipated this, but since registering a domain name was the only part of the plan that I felt comfortable doing, it was a disappointing start. The registration site tried to help me out by advising that related terms such as idiot, moron, dork, and stupid were still available for purchase if I was interested. But although it was tempting, I figured that Josh’s ego might have a problem with being the headlining act on Stupid.com. Instead I started a MySpace page for the band, which was free and pretty easy.
I checked out the YouTube video that Josh had