2 Minutes Late: A story of Alan changing his first baby diaper

My brother and sister-in-law were only going to be gone a few hours. Carter, my nephew, and I were spending the afternoon together having some man time. I was looking forward to spending time with him, but I wasn’t about to give up my pact so easily. A few years back I realized that I had made it through 20 years of life without changing a diaper, and I vowed to sit on the sidelines and wait this challenge out until that poo came from my gene pool. As Carter and I sat on the couch my burning question was this, “Will he drop a deuce or let me live up to my vow?”

We were watching Cars and I was thoroughly entranced. All of a sudden he began to hide behind the couch with a sheepish grin like a second grader who has a crush on his teacher. “Oh no…did he do it?” I looked at the clock, at the door, the clock, the door. They would be getting home any minute. As I took a step closer to him there it was, like a sucker punch to the kidney, like a messenger carrying the deadly letter. It was official- poo had left the chute and was waiting patiently in his Huggies (I did not receive any monies from the company for this endorsement).

“Can I wait it out? Can I risk diaper rash for personal dignity? Can I say, in good conscience, that I didn’t know?” After two minutes an awful feeling of responsibility came over me. After chasing him around the room (weird that kids want to have feces in their shorts and hate being changed) I caught him and began the walk of shame upstairs…while still eyeing the door. That would’ve been the perfect moment for mommy to walk in. I’d make the pass off and still be a hero to the little guy, and myself. Not so.

After the walk of shame I looked at the changing table like a tool I had never taken out of the box. Upon opening the diaper I found last night’s red pepper rice burning a hole in my nostrils. All the while the little guy was smiling as if to say, “life is great and you’re a sucker for doing this.” I had no idea what I was doing but quickly wadded the diaper, made a few well-intentioned swipes, and in an amazing feat I pulled the new poo catcher (also know as one Huggy) out with the other hand. I fitted it onto him as fast as possible, still wondering how I was going to tell others I had broken this vow, and began to snap up his pants.

At this moment mom and dad promptly walked in the door. Two minutes late! There I was feeling dirty with a shattered ego laying on the floor below me.

Moral of the story: When faced with diaper rash, a ticking clock, a running baby, a new experience, and any form of poo, procrastination is always the best option. I guess I’m ready to start thinking more about kids now.
~Alan~

Now it’s Julie’s turn… the P.S. of the story is that I found out two weeks later from Carter’s mom that Alan put the diaper on backwards… guess she didn’t have the heart to tell him… Keep practicing Al!