Sorry for the long delay, but The Daily Ted has been on vacation. Well, more specifically, Ted and his parents were on vacation to The Cape. (That’s Cape Cod, Massachusetts for the non-New Englanders.) We didn’t want to do anything too lengthy or too far from home out of fear of not knowing how Ted would deal with being away from his normal environment and possibly off of his normal schedule. In retrospect I think Ted’s parents used him as an excuse, because what they were really afraid of was how they would deal with a baby on vacation. When it came to Ted, we should have known that he would be the normal cool little dude that he always usually is.

There were, however, a couple of lessons learned which I hope to remember for our future excursions…

There’s no such thing as over-packing anymore. I’m fairly certain that I’ve over-packed for every single trip I’ve ever taken. But not this one. I’ve always packed the extra t-shirts beyond the number of days I’d be away, the nice clothes as well as the nicer clothes for the potential “fancy” dinner, and the “just-in-case” extra underwear although I’m not exactly sure what I thought might happen that would require me to have an extra pair of underwear “just-in-case.” For some reason I thought that this trip would be the ideal situation to break myself of the habit of packing more than I need. Well, that’s a bit of a lie. I know exactly why I chose this trip to break the habit. It’s Ted’s fault. I gave my typical “long weekend bag” to Ted for his clothes, bibs, burp cloths, etc. So that left me with either the much smaller backpack or needing to go up to the scorching hot attic to acquire a different piece of luggage. Anyone who knows me even just a little can guess that laziness won out and so I chose the small backpack for my clothes. It was only going to be for a couple of days after all; how much could I possibly need? I mean, it’s not like Ted is going to spit up or shoot poop onto me after I’ve put on the last clean clothes I have, right?  Oh.  Wait.  That’s exactly what happened.

Babies are weirdo magnets. It’s no secret that I’m not particularly fond of people. I don’t have much patience for the people I’m related to nor for those who claim to be my friends. But strangers? Weird strangers? Fuggedaboutit. Now, I’m not talking about the harmless seniors who smile as we walk past with “Teddy-the-cutie” or the waitress who makes a favorable comment about his behavior as we sit in a restaurant with “Teddy-the-silent.” I’m talking about the people who feel the need to strike up a conversation just because we’re holding a baby. A conversation that apparently only they are allowed to declare the end to. Should you start to casually walk away because you need to tend to said baby, well, they’ll follow you as they keep yammering on about how cute, smart, and/or big their child/grandchild is.  As if I care about what their kid can do? I’m Ted’s dad. I’m already well acquainted with the most awesome kid on the planet.