Q: How many tall people does it take to change a seven-month-old's diaper?

A: Three

Our family went road tripping over the weekend. We drove forty-five minutes to the "Big City" just to hang out on Saturday. Actually, I needed to deposit my monthly paycheck, and we went grocery shopping while we were there.

Yes, big fun.

After arriving in the "Big City" an awful smell permeated the car. The odorous molecules were so strong even my lovely Rain Forest car freshener couldn't fight it off. We finally decided to pull over into a vacant parking lot, and Liberty Grace, with a big grin on her face displaying her twin bottom teeth, was removed from the car. I wore a gas-mask.

Reconnaissance of the area showed no open stores or bathrooms, so I spread Liberty's changing pad out on the trunk of the car, propped the diaper wipes open nearby and proceeded to unsnap her outfit and untape her diaper. Liberty very politely waited until her diaper was opened to begin wiggling.

She twisted towards the diaper wipes container, and I deftly swept it out of reach. She twisted towards her diaper bag, and I held her ankles with one hand and shoved the bag away with my other hand. She bent as though she planned to sit up, and the tilting trunk helped her slide downwards. "Sit still, Baby," I instructed, and she giggled at me. I lifted her back into position, and still holding her ankles, reached for a diaper wipe. She saw her chance and seized it, attempting to crawl in the other direction.

"Stop! Jeremy, help!" I shouted. Jeremy jumped to attention and grabbed the dirty baby just in time to catch a smile and a gurgle of happiness. He kept his hand on her chest and shaded her face with his other hand. I noticed how huge his hands were in comparison with her tiny chest, and I smiled to myself.

Unable to continue her freedom crusade, Liberty decided to help change her diaper by sticking her hands where they could be the most helpful. "No, Libby." I said using one hand to hold her ankles and the other hand to block her exploring fingers. We stood at an impasse.

"Kimmie." I called. Kimmie had been laughing at us through the car's back window during this whole process. She suddenly sobered as she realized her regiment was being called to battle, but she faced her duty manfully...um, girlfully.

At first, we tried Daddy on chest and distraction duty, Mommy on legs and arms duty, and Kimmie on cleanup, but our arms kept crossing each other. We finally switched to Daddy on chest and arms -- there was a slight pause while Jeremy adjusted his stance to shade Libby's face with his body's shadow, Kimmie on legs and distraction, and Mommy on cleanup.

It worked! We celebrated our victory by three-pointing the diaper into a nearby dumpster.
Labels: | edit post
1 Response
  1. I LOVE how you tell/write stories! It is amazing how one little one can demand so much of us! :-)

Post a Comment