COUNTY AGENT GUY
It seems a bit strange for babies to be having babies. At least that’s how my wife and I saw it. During recent holiday gatherings, we got to coo at and say “isn’t he cute!” to the babies born to our nieces and nephews. We can clearly recall when these nieces and nephews were babies, so it’s weird to see them with babies of their own.
The math says otherwise; our nieces and nephews are now in their 20s and 30s. This might be seen as an extremely tender age to be entrusted with an infant, but then we remembered that my wife was 22 when she conceived our first son.
This inconvenient truth stifled our “What were those youngsters thinking?” comments.
Our nephews and nephews-in-law are fully engaged modern young dads. They are co-parenting with gusto, feeding their babies, burping them and making funny faces at them. No wonder kids grow up thinking that dads are odd.
I asked the young fathers about a particular issue. Each of them, like me, harbors a gut-churning revulsion for changing diapers.
Given that paternal diaper duty is now mandated by federal law, there’s serious money to be made by any forward-thinking entrepreneur who could successfully address this problem. I can imagine how it might work:
A young father is watching TV. He’s totally engrossed in the Game of the Week.
“Third and long,” intones the announcer. “There’s the snap! Handoff to Kawolski. He’s at the 50! The 40! He’s going! He’s going!”
“Honey?” says the young dad’s wife, “I’m going out to run a few errands, OK?”
“OK,” he replies, distracted.
“I’m going to go to the store, stop at the post office and then pop into the office to finish the paperwork on that leveraged debenture equity derivative account, OK?”
“OK,” grunts the dad, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Great! The baby’s napping and there’s bottle in the fridge. See you later!”
A door slams and a car roars off. Only then does it dawn on the dad that – horrors! – he’s home alone with the baby!
“Omigod, omigod!” he moans as the full impact of this calamity hits him. “Stay calm! Maybe the baby will sleep until Mommy gets back.”
But no. From the nursery there arises a small whimper. The house is soon enveloped by a roaring hurricane of baby yowls.
“Here!” says the panicked young dad to the shrieking creature in the crib. “Do you want your bottle? No? How about your teddy bear? No? What if Daddy gave you five dollars? Make it fifty! How about a car? Daddy has a late-model Taurus that’s in great condition!”
The infant responds by wailing even louder. The father has little choice but to investigate the diaper situation.
“Dear Lord!” gags the dad upon sneaking a peek into the diaper region. “What has Mommy been feeding you, fermented turnips?”
The mere thought of what comes next nearly causes the dad to faint. But then he remembers that he had purchased a Dapper Dad Diaper Disposal kit!
He sprints to the closet and digs out the package he had secreted away against just such an emergency. Cold sweat trickles down his forehead as he rips the box open.
He puts on the super-duty industrial gas mask and instantly feels better, mainly because his breathing now sounds similar to Darth Vader’s. He dons the lead apron and pulls on the ultra-thick shoulder-length hazmat gloves.
Thus protected, the dad is able to safely change the baby’s diaper. It probably takes longer than when the child’s mother performs this chore as he has to keep looking away to prevent his retinas from being seared by the ghastly tableau in the crib.
The baby is soon gurgling happily and all is right with the world. Or is it? What’s a guy supposed to do with that disgusting diaper? It certainly can’t stay in the house!
The father locates the Dapper Dad Diaper Disposal bungee strap. He hooks each end of the bungee onto the jambs of his front door, forming a giant slingshot. He loads the slingshot and pulls it w-a-a-a-y back.”Let’s see. The wind is blowing from the south and the moon is in its last quarter, so I should aim it right… there!”
The diaper soars off with a powerful “sproing!” It’s going, it’s going… it’s going to hit that car! Oh, no! That’s his wife’s car!
“Honey?” says his wife a few minutes later, “Do you know anything about that mess on my windshield?”
There’s no reply because the young father is frantically searching for his Dapper Dad Disappear Me kit. He has a feeling that he’ll be using it a lot from now on.
Nelson is a freelance writer from Volga, S.D. Reach him by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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