In the lead up to the firstborn’s birthday party, my wife cleaned the house up and down. The house was spotless. It was this very cleanliness that acted as the baby’s gamma radiation exposure. The baby can now detect paper otherwise invisible to an adult’s eye.
The baby just wants to chew stuff. Like a puppy, but spray bottles would be even less effective. The favored chew item right now is paper products. The baby uses his super power (being on the floor) to find every bit of paper in a room.
His powers go one step further. When the paper is spotted, he makes sure adults are not looking at him nonce all eyes are directed elsewhere, he darts off to the target. He’s a cheetah raised by Usain Bolt at this point. No adult can catch him, no shiny object can distract him.
The phenomenon known as “dad reflex” is rendered useless in the aura of the baby’s super power. Once the paper is spotted and the mad dash made, that paper is going to be chewed until gummy.
Being the one that must stop the super baby is the worst part. I am the Lex Luther to his Superman. The Green Goblin to his Spider-Man. A villain in my own house and all because I have to take away the obvious choking hazard. Taking paper products out of those tiny hands and having huge sad eyes look up at me is text book comic bad guy.
The firstborn gave me a wonderful bad guy mantle to take on. In my pursuit to end all super powers such as paper chewing, running with scissors, jumping from the stairs and finding plastic bags I didn’t even know existed, I shall assume the moniker bestowed upon me by the very super heroes I have set out to stop. I shall be called, “But, Daaaaaad”.
Watch out kiddos.