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Hands Off!
This morning my (almost) two year old son awoke at 5:00AM. Only semi-conscious, I shuffled to his room, groping at walls to find my way. I mustered every bit of strength I had to lift him out of his crib. It felt like he weighed a ton (and not just because my arms were still asleep). I looked down and noticed his diaper was about to explode. I managed to get him to the changing table (barely), and proceeded to remove the piss-soaked Pamper. I immediately noticed that his little dick was Hellboy red. I guess that happens when you spend a few hours sleeping in a pool of your own urine. Alarmed at the site of his penis I decided to put some diaper cream on it. Bad idea. Once he realized what I was trying to do his legs were clamped shut like the jaws of a pit bull. He kept repeating "don't like that" and I kept repeating "when did this become my life?" I tried prying his little legs open but he wasn't having any of it. The notion of trying to force my son to let me rub cream on his penis started to disturb me. Why did he have to make this weird? I mean it's five in the bloody morning and the last thing I feel like doing is wrestling my son for access to his miniature dick. Eventually he won. Not because of his unusually strong leg muscles, but because he succeeded in making me feel like some depraved pervert. It was time for Plan B. I decided to smear the "pipi area" of a fresh diaper with cream and hope for the best. Before long the diaper was on, he was watching Teli (fresh bottle in hand—of course) and I was soundly asleep on the couch.
This morning my (almost) two year old son awoke at 5:00AM. Only semi-conscious, I shuffled to his room, groping at walls to find my way. I mustered every bit of strength I had to lift him out of his crib. It felt like he weighed a ton (and not just because my arms were still asleep). I looked down and noticed his diaper was about to explode. I managed to get him to the changing table (barely), and proceeded to remove the piss-soaked Pamper. I immediately noticed that his little dick was Hellboy red. I guess that happens when you spend a few hours sleeping in a pool of your own urine. Alarmed at the site of his penis I decided to put some diaper cream on it. Bad idea. Once he realized what I was trying to do his legs were clamped shut like the jaws of a pit bull. He kept repeating "don't like that" and I kept repeating "when did this become my life?" I tried prying his little legs open but he wasn't having any of it. The notion of trying to force my son to let me rub cream on his penis started to disturb me. Why did he have to make this weird? I mean it's five in the bloody morning and the last thing I feel like doing is wrestling my son for access to his miniature dick. Eventually he won. Not because of his unusually strong leg muscles, but because he succeeded in making me feel like some depraved pervert. It was time for Plan B. I decided to smear the "pipi area" of a fresh diaper with cream and hope for the best. Before long the diaper was on, he was watching Teli (fresh bottle in hand—of course) and I was soundly asleep on the couch.
