I have been changing diapers for five years, three weeks, and one day. Every day. For five years, three weeks, and one day. Every day since September 23, 2007, I have wiped a tiny little ass, every single goddamn day. My daughter was still in diapers when my son was born, so they overlapped for a while, and then she finally got potty trained (hallelujah). But my son is now 2 and a half, and just now getting the hang of it. Now I know I can’t compete with that Duggar lady’s ratio in the butts-to-wipe/percentage-of-her-life category, but it sure feels like it sometimes. Changing diapers is just such a part of my daily life I simply can’t imagine NOT doing it. I feel like I have simply accepted the role of Senior Butthole Inspector for eternity. I feel like for the rest of my years, I’ll be cramming soggy diapers into that putrid, worthless Diaper Genie. That stupid, foul, not-keeping-the-room-not-stinky Diaper Genie that sometimes has flies in it and makes me dry heave every single goddamn time I empty those vile tubes of shit. But today, my sweet son sat down and pooped. In a TOILET. And for a brief moment I imagined a life without diapers. It’s in the near future. It’s close. So close I can almost smell it.
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