Diaper-changing on the road

Picture, if you will, a Brookshire Bros. grocery store in Buffalo, TX. A young couple are in the parking lot attempting to change their newborn’s diaper. Actually, the mom was driving, so she is in the front changing the diaper while the child lies in the front passenger seat. Almost everything that can go wrong does.

First – The child in question keeps pushing off the back of the seat with his feet. Consequently, his head is already hanging off of the seat before his mother even has his diaper off.

Second – The mother mentions that her open can of Diet Coke is in danger of being sprayed if the cloth diaper covering her son’s penis does not effectively block the spray if he pees. Due to extreme sleep deprivation, she does not notice her husband reaching right in front of her and removing the can.

Third – Her elbow strikes something on the console between the seats while she is trying to wipe her wriggling son’s butt and keep the makeshift “pee-pee teepee” in place. At first, she thinks it is the bottle of formula her husband was feeding her son moments before. However, she soon discovers it is her can of Diet Coke, which is now upside down between the well and the passenger seat, covering the floorboard with Diet Coke.

Fourth – Wife yells at husband “Why in the world did you put that there???” Husband proceeds to calmly tell wife not to yell at him as Diet Coke continues to leak on the floorboard.

Fifth – One of the parents (Can’t remember which one.) finally collects their scattered wits long enough to grab the Diet Coke can. Mother tells father to stop telling her to quit yelling at him and help her clean up the Diet Coke on the changing pad before son puts his foot in it.

Six – Mother explains to father that she wasn’t trying to yell, just exclaiming in wonderment over the fact that he thought it was a good idea to put the Diet Coke can there. He’s usually smarter than that. That’s what sleep deprivation will do to you, kiddies.

Seven – Father helps clean up the Diet Coke, goes to grocery store gas station to get paper towels.

Eight – Son spits up as soon as father leaves. Mother is still holding him on front seat. Burp cloth is in backseat.

Nine – Mother makes do with a wipe until father returns, retrieves burp cloth, and finishes the job. Afterwards, mother realizes she no longer knows which cloth diaper is “pee-pee teepee” and which is burp cloth.

Ten – Son is returned to backseat unscathed. Parents have a good laugh at themselves. Son laughs at parents from car seat. Parents drive out of the parking lot after that stunning display of mental acuity and coordination.

Although it doesn’t sound like it from that story, our first trip as a family went very well this weekend! Our son barely fussed in the car. He is the most amazing baby ever.

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Why?

Why won’t my son come out? Doesn’t he want to be squeezed and pushed in to a glaringly bright, stiflingly hot new world full of drivers on cell phones and oblivious smokers who think being outside negates the effects of their secondhand smoke? (Yeah, I’m talking about you ladies outside the Alamo Village last Friday night, who didn’t seem to realize that the ceiling fans were wafting your cigarette smoke directly towards my unborn child’s pristine lungs.)

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