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The Christening

Another first happened last night. I was holding him on the couch and my nose told me that we had a diaper change brewing, so I decided to pick him up and take him over to the Pack N’ Play (which is currently our only diaper station in the house) to change him. When I got there I noticed something that looked like a small dab of unstirred brownie mix on my shirt. Since I haven’t made brownies in quite some time, I turned to Michelle and just pointed at the spot, not really getting anything more out of my mouth than “Is that … is that …?” And she saw my shirt and noticed another, much larger area that had been covered as well. And I looked down at his crotch and saw the stuff oozing out beneath the corner of his brand new bright red onsie that his granny had bought him. Looking back and forth between his leg and my shirt, and seeing it also on the changing pad and also on his feet, I came to the obvious conclusion: my boy just shit on me.

The first stage in this scenario is denial, but as I came around to acceptance, I called for Michelle’s help in getting me some paper towels so that we could get through this mess together. Once she got back, I set out like a skilled surgeon, moving pieces around and cleaning them up with a small stack of towels and wipes. We got him undressed and Michelle whisked away the dirty clothes, including the shirt on my back. It was gross. But it was mainly hilarious, and I remember us laughing pretty much the whole time. Because really, what else are you gonna do? Yeah, I kind of freaked out at first … I mean, it was on my hands. My hands! And if I hadn’t stood up when I did, who knows where else it would have gotten? But after a minute and seeing that he actually wasn’t screaming through a diaper change for once, Michelle was able to help me keep my wits and get through the nastiest diaper change so far. Again, on his one week birthday.

And yet somehow I suspect that there will be many more, much nastier, and hopefully even funnier times with my boy. I’ve heard of men, even in recent years say that they refuse to change a diaper. I can’t figure this one out. I would do anything for him. Anything at all.

Changing a diaper is nothing.

5 thoughts on “The Christening”

  1. you go! Stevie had to change them for me at first – I had no idea, never changed a diapie in my life until Dorothy’s….just know that if you (well Michelle) keep nursing exclusively, he will start pooping only like once a week. It’s awesome. If you keep a record of what Michelle eats, you can figure out what ‘disagrees’ with Sebo. Sauerkraut & high lactose cheeses were our only nemeses from nursing, otherwise, everything else was fine. You guys are doing great, glad to see the blogs rolling again!

  2. I will pray that Sebastian, unlike Grace, won’t one day decide it would be cool to take the crap out of his diaper and paint the walls and crib with it. Every day for weeks.

    Then again, you guys ARE artists, so the odds aren’t in your favor on that one.

    But, yeah, you’re a dad. A real man cleans feces off of furniture. :-)

    Enjoy every minute! (I know you are.)

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