He Got Me

Because he protests about his wet diaper as soon as he’s done wetting it, we’ve been fairly lax about protecting ourselves from what little baby boys are known to do when their diaper comes off. We don’t have any of those fancy cup things you can buy at the baby store, and we haven’t even done the whole strategically placed washcloth thing. Instead, we shield his peep with one hand while we go about our diaper business with the other. And until yesterday, even the hand would remain dry.

Maybe I got cocky (pun totally intended), but I truly believed that because of his immediate need for a change upon wetting and because he’s gone seven-plus weeks without doing it, he would be one of those strange babies that wouldn’t spray his mama. Sure, I knew that was a completely unrealistic assumption, but even though I still understood that it could happen any time, I guess I wasn’t really expecting it, after all.

Because what did I do when I felt something warm and wet hit my hand? Well, I pulled my hand away, obviously, because I was startled. So even though my palm had been prepared to protect me and the rest of the room, instinct overruled and we ended up with a little bit of a mess. Fortunately, because I was, in fact, changing a wet diaper, it wasn’t much. I consider it part of my initiation. I have a son, which means I’ve got to watch out, because those things, as we all know, have a mind of their own.

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