Notorious D.A.D.

Around the house, and especially in the parenting department, I try to pull my own weight (which, I’m sorry to say, is a task that keeps getting bigger).

Entertaining, carrying, dressing, bathing, and changing The Squeaker (just to name a few) are all within my purview. And I’m pretty adept at them all; but I’m notorious for just one.

Around my house, I am notorious when it comes to changing The Squeaker’s diaper.

My notoriety does not come from my complaining about changing here diapers; in fact, I complain about a lot of things - taking out the garbage, the price of gas, stupid people – but I never complain about changing a wet/dirty diaper.

I am not without diaper changing experience. When Picasso and The VP first moved here, I watched gunslinger on Fridays. I changed a lot of diapers for Gunslinger.

I like changing Squeak’s diapers – it’s definitely a bonding experience; probably as close a bonding experience as I can get. What says I love you more than changing someone’s diaper? Maybe bailing someone out of jail, but really, that’s a distant second.

My notoriety comes from my apparent inability to put a dirty diaper in the diaper pail.

It’s not that I don’t want to put the diaper in its proper place, but I get sidetracked, what with keeping her feet out of the dirty diaper, keeping her from rolling off the changing table, dressing/redressing her, etc.

Personally, I think it’s a trifling of a thing; I could simply not change diapers, then who would be complaining?

Me, of course.

Because P.Pie would have thrown all my worldly possessions on the front lawn, put a 'FREE' sign on it and changed the locks on the house.