None of the men in my wife’s family ever changed a diaper. Not one. Not ever.
Little scientists my ass! Left alone for a few minutes and they managed to do this.
I unload Amelia from her car seat, gather her snack and water cups, and zip them away in the diaper bag. I place her sunglasses on her face and ask, “Who’s ready for a fun day at the zoo?”
“Fortunately we got to her in time, you know, before the blaze could spread,” Jessica said.
Miss Meela wailed underneath her broad-brimmed hat as the pallbearers lowered the casket, carrying her young kin.
I was in a Central Park playground one autumn afternoon with two extremely high-energy young sons, when a local dad offered to organize a game with them and other kids in the park.
“Is a tail a private part of an elephant’s body? Is a tail a private part of a mouse’s body? I can see an animal’s tail, so is it not private?”
I am running behind on dinner thanks to a last minute work emergency and bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate . . .