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K-Fed RAPS! But you can call him Daddy.


Trees in my neighbor's yard.







Tuesday, November 8, 2005

Apparently the fine people working at Babystyle, Hanna Andersson, Toys R Us, and several other toy/diaper/clothing manufacturers have all learned of my hatchling, and as a personal gesture of congratulations have added me to their catalog mailing lists. I now receive approximately eight thousand different publications all geared to make me lose my mind over such ridiculous, overpriced, silly items such as, um, this, which I am totally clicking "add to cart" on right this very minute.

Occasionally, Huggies sees fit to send some free samples my way. "Here, try this fabulous diaper wipe," they cajole. "It removes feces from scrotal folds and makes your home springtime-fresh!" I hate to fit so neatly into their target demographic ("Why, both of those product claims appeal to me!"), but I have to admit that flavor of marketing has proven itself successful at our mailing address. For instance, my spurred-by-sample-performance switch to "Swaddlers" brand diapers, which are very soft and nice and so far have done a terrific job of keeping all waste matter where it belongs, and not, say, exploding out a leghole in a geyser of filth and horror while I'm in line at the grocery store.

The other day, a packet of Huggies Liquid Powder arrived. Goes on like lotion, yet dries to a powder. Last I consulted the ever-changing master list of Things That Can Kill Your Baby Stone Cold Dead, baby powder is now forbidden because babies can inhale the particles, so the whole goes on like lotion thing seemed designed to address that little problem. I'm always game to slather my child with random unguents that show up in my mailbox, so this afternoon I followed up a diaper change by liberally applying some Liquid Powder to Riley's caboose. All seemed well until I wiped my hands on the changing pad's cover - and then, noticing the smears of dried white residue, began briskly patting the cover right by Riley's head...in order to, wait for it, disperse the powder into the air. Which he instantly inhaled.

Judging from the sheer volume of screaming that ensued, I don't believe the powder caused any actual breathing impediments; instead, what I am convinced happened was that his mouth and tongue were coated with the vile, vile taste of Huggies "Fresh Baby Scent". Or maybe it was the Tocopheryl Acetate (ingredient #14). At any rate, boy howdy did I feel bad. I begged for forgiveness while serving up some quality time in the rocking chair and a formula amuse-bouche, but O, the guilt. I feel I will take this little incident to my grave along with the time I sliced his finger with the nail clippers.

In retrospect, I should have heeded the cautionary Safety Tip on the back of the sample: "Keep away from children", it reads. You wouldn't think a second line would be necessary, but maybe they should add "...And any cognitively impaired adults."


Okay, dammit, here is a picture of my hair. It is as illustrative as a photo taken by myself in a mirror with bad lighting and angles is going to get.


But let's not LIE, people, you're only here for this guy:

Ha! He is like a fat hummingbird, with his blurry action arm and all! (Not pictured: damaged lungs, powder-coated trachea.)


Finally, in keeping with the bad parent theme, can you spot the many things wrong with this?

Did you get all six?

• Child dressed in silly Hawaiian-print onesie
• Parent callously ignoring child's bitter tears in favor of wielding camera
• Bouncy seat precariously balanced on coffee table
• Binky mere inches from mouth, providing no comfort whatsoever but causing future orthodontia nightmare by proximity
• And of course, visible magazine clutter & unfluffed couch pillow = stay-at-home slattern, probably wasting time on the internet instead of cleaning

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