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Today Sam had what was possibly the poopiest, stinkiest, heaviest, chunkiest diaper that has ever existed in the entire history of babies. It was bad - very bad - and I immediately launched into the frenzy known in our house as Code Brown Protocol. In the middle of the fury, George wandered into the nursery, and saw - or should I say, smelled - the goings on.

"Whoa," he said, backing out slowly.

"Hold it right there," I said, brandishing a handful of baby wipes. "Don't you dare bail on me."

"It looks like you've got in under control. It's not like there's anything I can do," George said, still inching away.

Husbands, know this: we don't expect you to slay dragons on our behalf, but changing a poopie diaper once in awhile goes a long, long way to winning our hearts.

Men. Hmph.

Posted 11 July 2004 at 11:26 AM