“I felt something impossible for me to explain in words. Then when they took her away, it hit me. I got scared all over again and began to feel giddy. Then it came to me.” — I was a father.Nat King Cole
“What’s that boy? You want mommy/daddy to change your poopy diaper?” That’s a running joke in my house whenever one of us doesn’t want diaper duty. It’s funny at the time. But sometimes I have to ask myself, as squeemish and anti-slime as I am, if I can change my son’s poopy diaper, why can’t his manly-man dad?
We see it all the time on TV and in movies. The dad gets to have all the fun and as soon as it’s diaper time he’s handing the kid over to mom. So is life mirroring art or is art inspiring life? I mean yes its nasty, slimy, and stinky. But what makes him think I want to deal with the doo anymore that he does? I do it out of love and obligation…mostly obligation. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not questioning Daddy’s love for my little man. I really just want to even the score here. I would say I manage diaper duty about 90% of the time; poopy duty about 95%; on top of everything else that I do. Now granted I am a stay at home mom. But still, somebody has got to understand where I’m coming from right? Even when I bargain a break out of Daddy, sometimes I am still awakened with “Babe, I think he pooped.” SMH
What is it about the powerful poop?