Diaper Dooty

The first diaper I ever changed was my son's and not until he was over a week old. And then I delegated any diaper with even a hint of poo to my lovely wife. That lasted another week and then my adventures began.

I built up this massive dread that morphed into unrelenting fear of changing a poopy diaper. But the unrelenting 'suggestions' from my wife that I learn this critical skill caused even greater dread. So I signed up for some lessons.

After several stints as a wing-man I was finally ready to fly solo. I survived the first one, and the next, and the next. They did not even smell that bad since the baby is breastfed. For the next 3 months I was papa-proud-of-himself.

Then it happened. The game got changed like a blow-out diaper. One morning I put the Baby on the changing table, unbuttoned the onesie, removed the diaper, took a breath, and 'Oh Man!' I thought it might be my last.

Two days earlier we introduced a little rice cereal into his milk. It was just a little, but man did it brew into a funky concoction. I've been rolling with the punches now for a few weeks and new fears are developing about solid foods. But this too shall pass. 

One thing you have to check out, if you don't have it already, is the diaper champ. It's an odorless diaper disposal trashcan. You just drop in the dirty deed, swivel the top, and the diaper is deposited into an air tight chamber, never to be smelled from again. Oh, and this baby runs on regular kitchen trash bags. (sort of like the Mr. Fusion of Delorean 2.0) Nobody wants plutonium-priced proprietary plastics anyways.