The thing about poopy diapers is – well, actually, there’s several things. Diapers are a necessity for the super young humans in this country/culture/era/etc., but man, those things are expensive. Paper or cloth, whichever way you go, you’re talking about taking money out of your pocket and asking your child to have a bowel movement on it. Cloth diapers make better financial sense in the end (the end – get it?) because you wash them and reuse them rather than throw them away, but the downside there is the whole washing thing. Trust me: I’ve gone both ways, cloth and paper, and the less said about washing poopy cloth diapers, the better.

 No, we don’t do cloth anymore. We’re confirmed paper-diaper people. SuperDad and I think nothing of dropping $40 every couple of weeks on the store-brand solution for infant incontinence for our 1-and 2- year old Geeklets. And we think nothing of throwing those expensive pieces of absorbent, cushiony, cutely printed wood pulp complete with elasticized cloth-like covers right in the trash just as soon as something stinks.

 Aah, the stink. The aroma of sweet baby excrement. There’s no way to say it that makes it sound – or smell – any better. That. Shit. Stinks. Ever had a cat? Ever had a dog? Shoot, ever had a cow? Well, this is worse. Because it happens seventeen times a day.

Now I’m not saying having a baby stinks. Having a baby is great! Heck, having six babies is great! Just ask anyone who has six babies. But we are living in the twenty-second century now, aren’t we? And we still haven’t figured out a better, more scientific way to deal with tiny bottoms and the goo they excrete? I mean, isn’t there a pill for that, or something? There’s a pill for everything else, isn’t there? Why not poop?

Or, ok, leave the poop, let poop happen the way it always has, but can’t we do something about the smell? Can’t baby poo smell like roses, or, I don’t know, popcorn or something? I’m not asking for much, I’m not talking Eau de Chanel or whatever, just something nice, and less horrific than ten soggy week-old dead catfish. Just give the baby a few drops of something, maybe mix it up with some vitamins, add it to the formula, and the poop won’t stink. No? We haven’t done that yet . . . ?

Hand me that gas mask, please.

And don’t waste your money on one of those diaper disposal systems. No, really, those things are hellishly expensive and the refills are, too, and you’re already spending your money on the diapers to begin with, and they don’t work any better than a couple of plastic Walmart bags wrapped around the offending package anyway. Just buy a room spray to freshen the place up afterward. Or, alternatively, you could live outdoors like the animals do it, and . . . nevermind.

 But really, once that package is ready for the trash, the olfactory damage has already been done. Your nose has lost the war just as soon as it figured out there was one. Ex post facto. And you know what, come to think of it, maybe that’s why those stinky diapers have to stink so bad. Maybe if they smelled like popcorn, Mommy and Daddy would be like, “Oh, someone’s eating popcorn, I think I’ll make some too,” and the kid would end up (end up – get it?) toddling around in poopy pants for the rest of the day. Not very comfortable.


Um, Dad? I stinky . . .



Speaking of toddling, though, there’s another way to diagnose dirty diapers. It’s not just the smell – it’s The Walk.

The Walk is . . . well, let’s say you’re going about your business, not bothering anyone, just chewing on the cat or practicing your bookshelf climbing or whatever, it’s just a normal day, really, and then suddenly, with no warning, there’s a great big lump of nice, warm, sticky, smelly Play-Doh in your pants. How would you walk? Yeah. That’s The Walk.

 You’re lucky if you see The Walk before you smell the poop. In that case, just grab your handy-dandy Hazmat suit and get diapering.