Approximately two to three times a day, the same thing happens in our house. Terza starts to cry, just a little at first, then louder and louder, with more and more intensity, as if she's really trying to send us a message. And we, good though very stupid parents that we are, attempt to console her.
"What's the matter honey? What is it? Is your belly bothering you? Do you need to burp? Are you hungry? Are you hot? Are you going through a growth spurt? Is it developmental? Oh baby, what IS it? What could possibly be making you cry?"
"Damn, something smells bad. Is that you, David? What the hell is making that smell? And why won't this baby stop crying? And why is the back of her onesie wet?"
Sound of diaper tabs being pulled off.
I don't know how it is possible that after three children and after three months of raising this one child, it still does not occur to us that the reason the baby might be crying is that she is dirty.
The baby has got to be sitting there, wallowing in her own feces thinking, "For fuck's sake! I've been born into a family of morons. This is Baby 101 here. CTDS. Check The Diaper, Stupid. CHECK THE DIAPER!"
We'll get it eventually.
Story Time, Stride Rite, and Rice Krispie Treats
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