I sit down to write this after having completed my new least-favorite task as a parent: The Dreaded Diaper Change.
I look forward to changing Seabass’ diaper with about the same amount of enthusiasm I reserve for doing my taxes. But taxes come only once per year. Diaper changes happen upward of, oh, FIVE TIMES PER DAY.
Why does he hate having his nappy changed so much?
- He hates lying on his back.
- He hates staying still.
- He has had, off and on, a nasty rash that irritates his nether-region.
So, to entertain himself during the inevitable changing times, Seabass has chosen to explore his own body. And he has found his parts.
Now, I knew this day would come, but I had no idea it would come so soon. Apparently I’m not alone in my surprise, as evidenced by the results of a recent Google search.
All of this would be fine with me – boys play with their stuff, n’est-ce pas? – if it weren’t for the fact that Seabass has also discovered the existence of poo down there, too. When I change his diaper, the moment that front flap comes down, it’s like Christmas. Poo! Get it! Grab it! Fling it! Spread it all over my chest! Pooooooo! Poo may very well be the only thing that makes diaper changes bearable for the little dude.
Needless to say, this is positively disgusting. I’ve tried everything to streamline and sanitize the process, but to no avail. We’re not talking about some toy that I can take away and put out of reach. They’re his own feces.
[Aside: If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know that I love talking about poo. So in the abstract, this situation is pretty great, pretty hilarious. Such irony is not lost on me. But, in practice, cleaning up baby dung is gross and not funny at all.]
We’re at a turning point, obviously, because this system cannot be sustained. I can’t keep laying him down only to watch him a) cry and wail, b) tug his thing with impunity, or c) play Monkey In The Zoo. Another routine must be devised. BFF Caroline performs her daughter’s diaper changes standing up. Are Seabass and I ready for such acrobatics? I don’t know, but I’m willing to give it a go.