Before I share any more new adventures with you all, I felt it was important to share this story from the archives, as it will serve as a common theme for future adventures.
When it comes to caring for the Boss, the Missus and I tend to split the chores. I got tagged with Diaper Duty. I do not like diaper duty, not because of the inherent yucky-ness that comes with the job. No, my problem with Diaper duty stems from the fact that a simple diaper change around here has become a Cable Pay Per View event, WWE style. Somehow, ol’ Action McGee here has equated a diaper in her mind with mortal combat and will do everything in her power to not have her diaper changed.
There was one particularly traumatizing moment that took place not long after Action became mobile. I had injured my back moving into our new place, so my speed and mobility were lacking. The Missus asks me to change the Baby’s diaper so she can get ready for bed. Fine. I reach into the box to get a diaper and start setting up the diaper changing station. Action, who is sitting in the corner playing with her toys, hears the crinkle of me opening the diaper. She takes one look at the diaper in my hands, drops EVERYTHING she is doing, gets up, and starts to make a break for it.
Frustrated, I get up to go after her, hobbling along. I’m in Action’s bedroom trying to catch her. She’s running, ducking and dodging every which way. I’m feeling like Rocky Balboa in the first Rocky movie, when he was trying to catch the chicken as part of his training. The Missus and her mom are there watching the spectacle (like I said, Pay Per View event.) All they hear in the back is, “Action! Get over here!” Stop moving!” “Dammit Kid!” Stop it!” “Mo-ther…COME HERE!”
I finally manged to grab her arm. She immediately does that “Go limp” thing that kids do when they don’t want to be picked up, and she’s squealing like a pig. I don’t care at this point I have a good grip and I’m not letting go. the Missus and her mom are laughing as I’m Dead-Man dragging this kid across the floor, all the while Action is leaving heel tracks in the carpet. I flip her onto the changing station to change her and it straight breaks out into WWE Smackdown.
Action is flipping, flopping and squirming, constantly trying to roll off the the changing pad. Now I’m really frustrated. I come off the top rope and pin Action down with my hand so she can’t escape. This Kid is kicking her legs like a wrestler that’s pinned down and trying to kick out of a 2-count. All the while, the Missus and her mom are behind me, laughing. Apparently, until that point Action never gave them this amount of Hell when they changed her diaper. No, she reserves this special treatment for her Daddy.
At my limit now, I grab Action’s leg to stop the kicking. Feeling victorious, I went to finish cleaning her before I put the diaper on. Now, notice I said “leg” singular, a detail that proved to be my undoing. In one fluid motion that I’m still to this day unsure of how she pulled off, Action managed to kick her free leg so hard that she was able to flip her entire body 180 degrees and land on all fours, her naked butt all in my face. The missus and her mom are Howling at this point, while I’m sitting there stunned, mortified, and still holding this kids leg, wondering how in the Ham sandwich she managed to pull that move off.
As if I couldn’t feel any more mortified, Action, whose feeling victorious, begins to celebrate and starts doing hard, pelvic thrusts, complete with grunts! I’m talking, *Huh-UHHH! Huh-UHHH! Huh-UHHH! her little butt still all in my face. Without saying a word and embarrassed as f**k that my daughter just went all “Triple H” on me, I slapped her diaper on backwards and walked away, traumatized by what just happened.
So, to summarize, I do not like changing Action’s diaper. AT. ALL. However, Changing her is my job, so keep this story in mind whenever I tell a story that involves diaper changing.