The joys of fatherhood – Smoked Paprika Edition

Baby J. started to walk a couple of weeks ago. L. and I have already experienced the sheer terror that accompanies our son’s increased mobility. One morning last week, we were busily packing lunches, feeding the dogs, etc. while J. was playing on the floor. I ran upstairs to fetch something I had left in our bedroom. L. had turned her back for fifteen seconds to let the dogs in. Each thought the other was running the baby defense. In that slightest of moments, J. had reached into the spice rack, found my smoked Paprika, opened the tin and dumped the contents on the floor, creating an instantaneous blood-red sandbox. As I descend the stairs into the kitchen, I notice that he is covered in red and holding the now empty can. I say something like “Oh my God” and start running, thinking God knows what kind of tantrum would be set off if he tasted the spice or even worse, got some in his eyes. Just then, L. sees her darling baby boy on the floor in a puddle of crimson and froze. I can only imagine what flashed through her head at that moment. Long story short (too late?), we reached J. before he has a chance to eat any of the stuff but it was a very close call. And L. and I learned a valuable parenting lesson.

Lifted from the Simpsons’ – the Ms. Botz, babysitter bandit, episode:
Ms. Botz: Mr. Simpson, can I give you a bit of advice?
Homer: Sure.
Ms. Botz: Don’t turn your back on that boy for a second.

And how…

(Sidebar: Smoked Paprika is my new favorite spice. As a good Southern boy, I love the smoky flavor of fat back and ham hock. Then I married a vegetarian, so fat back has sort of disappeared from my life. Smoked Paprika, however, is a great veg substitute for the smoky pork in all sorts of rice, beans, and greens.)