What was once innocent, inoffensive and even endearing, has now become repugnant, tenacious, and…stinky.
Who knew sweet potatoes could so change my life?
Last week, Dr. Katy told us that Ian’s 15 pounds and 27.5 (but really 28) inches were our cue to introduce him to solid foods. He can laugh, roll over, and grab hair – now, he can also eat creamed peas. Which leads to the digestion of creamed peas.
He actually took to solid foods quite well. It took him a while to realize that you don’t get much from sucking a spoon, and that feeding now takes a little patience. He doesn’t, however, understand that his face is covered with bananas because he has no fine motor skills.
Before his food came in jar form, Ian’s diapers were almost a pleasure to change. He’d smile, giggle, and squeal with delight at being Luvs-free. Kelly and I would tickle and play with him, and if a little something got on our clothes or fingers or elbows, well, it was only really breastmilk.
All of the books Kelly read and classes we took told us that a baby’s diaper has no odor. It’s not really true. A baby’s diaper smells, it just doesn’t smell bad. Kelly swears – and strangely enough, I find myself agreeing – that Ian’s diapers smelled like buttered popcorn. We didn’t get hungry, or anything. Whatever the smell, changing a diaper can’t be anything but changing a diaper. But it was as though God wanted all of my senses to be involved, pleasantly, in this wonderful bonding experience with my son.
Ian and I have bonded, and we’re out of popcorn.
As an overall experience, I still love changing Ian’s diaper. It’s something I can bring to mind, and I get a wonderful sense of fatherhood and love and the wonder of life.
It’s the details that get me. One detail, in particular. I change Ian’s diaper, and I get a sense of “faugh!” and “ewww!” and “what did you eat?!”
Natural gas is given an odor so that you can detect it. It’s not an original idea.