My son gave me a wedgie

Here’s a little insight into an hour of my life today…

J had been crying for about half an hour – knackered but unable to settle himself. His cold was in full flow and his nose had been getting increasingly sore after every wipe.

He wouldn’t go down in his cot, the best place for him was on my shoulder. Left or right, it didn’t matter. But it was like walking around with a loud hailer on full blast in my ear.

He eventually calmed down with his face in a pancake of smeared snot on my shoulder. I knew he needed a good hour otherwise we’d start the whole thing again later. And I was shattered (last night had been a midnight finish, followed by a 5am start, with two wake-ups in between).

I decided to lie down on our bed – that way he could sleep soundly (please J…) and I could flick through a magazine or surf on my phone. Mistake.

He did settle but I wasn’t comfortable. My head wasn’t supported so I ended up either resting it on the wooden, backward-sloping headboard or angling it forward. Neither was great. I tried moving. Another mistake.

Trying to wriggle myself further up the bed moved him and he started to wake up. I froze. He settled. Lucky escape. But I then started to slip down the bed a little and my jeans started to ride up a lot.

Now, boxer shorts are great – they normally let everything hang loose and give you that ‘free and easy’ feeling. Except when they head north. The slightest sign of any rucking up and each little fold of material starts to bite.

J wriggled and I slipped down a little more. Now things were uncomfortable. My boxies were now gripping my scrotum, playing balloon animals.

I tried moving again and this time J almost woke and started some full-on crying. I settled him and managed to stretch one leg. I thought he might be cold and so pulled the quilt over both of us. He was now quiet. Unfortunately, the quilt now covered my phone and my magazine. Nothing to do…

I could see myself in the wardrobe mirror. Slumped at an angle, head over to one side and slightly forward. Not my best shot (double chinburger and chips anyone?) I tried turning my head to see if the fold of fat under my chin was a mirage. Guess what. I pulled over a pillow, folded it in half, and settled back. Bliss for a few minutes.

But one of my socks was too tight and my foot was starting to itch. And one of my slippers was nearly dropping off (they were a free pair from a hotel blowout but were now falling apart – cheapskates). My phone started ringing but it was under the quilt and I couldn’t get to it straight away. J started to wake up. I was fumbling around under the quilt like a teenager but eventually jabbed it quiet. Safe.

But I had slipped down even more and now my boxies had my whole crotch wrapped up tight. My jeans had ridden up and had nestled themselves right up my crack. Funny when you notice things like seams.

I’d had enough. I know we didn’t plan to have any more kids but a man still values his tackle, right?

I got up and started a rain dance to free my genitals from their straight jacket. J was not impressed and started squeaking. Eventually, the blood started to flow to its rightful place and everything started tingling. An odd feeling (and not completely unpleasant).

I decided that 30 minutes would hold him over for a while and I would try to get him to sleep again later.

He carried on crying and blasting me with his double-barrelled snot gun.

I walked around the house for a while, glad of the freedom.

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