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When I go home, I play with my baby dolls and strollers and diaper bags, and play with my sisters.
Why do otherwise sane, competent, strong men, men who can wrestle bears or raid corporations, shrink away in horror at the thought of washing a dish or changing a diaper?
Changing a diaper is a lot like getting a present from your grandmother - you're not sure what you've got but you're pretty sure you're not going to like it.
I can change a diaper in 30 seconds flat. I set the new one beneath the old one. That way, it's just wipe and pull the flap over.
Diaper backward spells repaid. Think about it.
I learned how to change a cloth diaper on a raccoon. I was maybe 8 or 9.
I can change a No. 1 diaper in 30 seconds and a No. 2 in a minute.
I once knew a chap who had a system of just hanging the baby on the clothes line to dry and he was greatly admired by his fellow citizens for having discovered a wonderful innovation on changing a diaper.
Like many other women, I could not understand why every man who changed a diaper has felt impelled, in recent years, to write a book about it.
Everything TSA does is reactionary - first they ban the box cutters, then of course you have to take your shoes off, then you have to take the liquids out, now we have to be patted down in our private areas because of the diaper bomber.
