The dinner conversation took a wrong turn toward body functions. It usually does if we all sit there long enough. A lively banter involving poop ensued. I’ve spent years fighting this phenomenon. Trying to instill a little decency and class into the evening meal. To no avail.
Makes you want to join us for dinner, doesn’t it?
The topic came to rest while discussing Jensen’s diapers. Suffice it say that he’s a healthy specimen of boy. I’ll spare you the gory details.
Emme piped up with, “Well. When I have a baby, I’m going to have the Servant changed his diapers.”
I chuckle under my breath. Servant indeed. As if. I look up to find her gazing at me.
“Forget it missy. Not me. After I get Jensen housebroken, I’m retiring the old changing table. In fact, I’m never changing another diaper as long as I live. End of story.”
She shrugs her small shoulders and continues eating.
What remains unstated is that I fully plan on living with each one of my children when I’m long past coherent and continent. And then we’ll see who changes who’s diapers.
Circle of life and all that rot.
Revenge is a dish served piping hot. :0