Thursday, November 30, 2006

this must be love

Benjamin, last night I was on my way down the hall to check my email when I smelled something horrible through your door. It couldn't be. It was. Diarrhea. How much of this can you possibly contain in your little body?

Sighing in defeat, I opened the door to change you. You were in a deep sleep, sprawled across your bed on your back, a peaceful look on your face. I felt bad that I had to do anything, but I couldn't let you lie in it.

I'm not going to give you the details because some of them are so terrible they will embarrass you when you run for Congress as a Democrat when you are older.

However, I will say it was green and it required nearly twenty-five wipes and, per the doctor's instructions, I had to collect it with a little spoon fashioned just for this purpose.

Son, I know more about you than you will ever want me to.

And through all the wiping, the changing of the diaper, the changing of the pajamas, through everything, you slept peacefully, and it says a lot about how much I can love you when I can barely breath because it is so gross, yet I manage to look up at that beautiful sleeping face and feel so in love.

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