Yesterday I was thinking about fatherhood and the relationship that’s developing
between me and Baby Happy. One thing
I found funny about him in his first two weeks of life was that he hated having
diaper, but he hated diaper changes even more. He would fuss in a matter-of-fact
sort of way to complain about the fact that he was wallowing in his own filth,
but then he would wail and flail and do his best to make the mess even worse
when I removed the nasty diaper and cleaned him off. I, of course, had to work
the unpleasantness, immobilizing his legs and feet so that I could wipe away
the nastiness and
install a clean new diaper. I never meant to make him unhappy, but I wasn’t
about to leave him in a wet or poopy condition just so he wouldn’t cry.
He sometimes felt miserable in his condition. He had to be changed, but the
change was more troubling than the problem itself. However, he
always calmed down afterward, perhaps realizing
that things had gotten better.
I don’t know if he has come to understand the purpose of diaper changes or
if he’s just mellowed out, but he accepts them with more patience now. Or he
just trusts me more.
There’s probably a lesson in there somewhere.