Greg gave me a break from Donkey Dodge so that I could sit down and write. In between squeals of laughter and a baby filling her diaper, I really wasn’t able to get much accomplished. Doesn’t he hear the gurgling noises coming from her bouncy chair? She’s closer to him than she is to me and I hear them. How long is he going to let this poor child sit in a soiled diaper? I’m remembering last night’s dinner when I was nursing the baby and the oven beeped. It beeped and beeped and beeped. It beeped nineteen times to be exact. I’m not sure if the timer beeps once a minute or once every thirty seconds when something has completed cooking but I was amazed and astounded that the chicken didn’t catch on fire before he knew to turn the oven off. Correction, he asked me what he should do first before he turned the oven off. I suggested after an appropriate waiting period that Greg consider changing the baby’s diaper and he obliged. For some reason when he changes a diaper it becomes a one act, five person play involving the entire family. The oldest girls feel sorry for him while he stares perplexed at the situation, not quite knowing where he should start. They rally behind him with diapers, wipes, creams, tissues, lotions, potions and it turns into a team sport. Everyone has a job and he is the captain. Until of course, he notices a spot of brown on the front of the baby’s shirt and realizes he has to change his game plan. The entire ensemble has to be removed, an event he is convinced only happens on his watch when in reality, it happens just about every other diaper change and I quickly and efficiently handle at least eleven of those daily.

He manages to slide the onesie over the baby’s head nearly popping her neck and head off with it. Re-dressing? He won’t even attempt it. “What is this, a kimono?” I hear him from the hopefully sold dining room table. I can tell he’s refusing to breathe through his nose because the idea of the diaper beside him sickens him. He says it was a HUGE diarrea. I look over and see the whisper of a brown spot lining the diaper, probably left over from the last one I changed.