Ahhh...the diaper dash

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    Write what you know, they say.

Well, these days, I know diapers.

Since our boy was born in October, changing his bum has been a regular part of my home life. (Not regular enough, says my wife.)

Still, dealing with diapers remains anything but routine.

There's always some kind of surprise underneath that adhesive fold, and we'll just leave it at that.

I try to make the best of any stinky situations and change him without incident or Hazmat suit.

But, at times, it's impossible to do it quietly. The contents mean changing the diaper with the hand speed of Magician Mark Webber, then folding it up and making like a Usain Bolt of lightning down the steps, out the door and to the garbage.

There's simply no room for thought at these tense times, let alone to don protective clothing or to wait until the director of Home Life Security (his mom) is available to do the job.

It actually amazes me how much a diaper can hold. The self storage malls that are popping up around the metro region can't handle as much as a Huggie.

And the ability to absorb is astounding. Diapers should have been used to clean up the Gulf oil spill. "Mr. Obama, we're dropping the greatest technology known to man on it – Pampers with Dry Max."

That might have gotten a lot of business people and politicians out of a slick situation.

Anyway...what's the point of this diaper dialogue?

There isn't one really. I'm just passing a few minutes as the boy makes THAT face, the one that means there'll be another surprise in the very near future.

 

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