My twin boys were nine weeks old when my husband and I took a trip to visit my grandmother. One night, when we were staying in a hotel, I began to change a poopy diaper on the bed. Not thinking, I didn’t lay a clean diaper under the dirty one, and my son Read the rest of this entry
One time, when I had just three, ages 4, 2, and 8 months, I went home to my parents without my husband. I was a little nervous about the 4 hour drive with the little ones, but I knew I could make it without a stop. Or so I thought.
My youngest got a stinky diaper and proceeded to stick her hand in it (it was summer and she was in a romper). It smelled, and she was dirty… and she was a thumb sucker! I pulled quickly off the highway in order to see to this poop-tastrophe. As I was changing the diaper in the car in the parking lot of a gas station, my oldest started pointing out the car door and saying, “It’s a pirate! It’s a pirate!” I said something like, “Um hmm, that’s nice.” But she got more excited saying, “Mommy, the pirate!” so I turned around. Read the rest of this entry
Witness my daughter, Leah. One day I was changing my son Eli’s diaper. My son Eli had a terrible habit. Every time anybody would open his diaper, his hands would immediately proceed down to his, um, well his boy parts. This was especially annoying when he had pooped in his diaper. When it was possible, we would always make sure to have two people to change him. One to hold Eli’s hands and one on the business end.
But that was not always possible.
Once when I was alone with the children, Eli needed a change. I got to work on his diaper and he immediately got to work on his boy parts. In frustration I yelled, “Stop playing with yourself.”
With impeccable timing, my two and a half year old daughter joined in, “It’s not a toy!”
Ari, father of 4, author of Bias Incident: The World’s Most Politically Incorrect Novel.