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A Diaper Adieu

Sep
22
2006

I finally took the diaper out of my purse today.
No, no, donĀ“t be silly, it was clean of course. It was the last remnant from the big bag o’ changing stuff that I schlepped around when each little guy was a baby. As son the younger’s potty training progressed, I was down to one diaper just in case and some wipies.
But now the kid’s clearly a champion potty user, a prince of porcelain, a titan of the toilet, and the diaper was starting to get a little beat up, so I decided it was time to get it out of there. Of course there’s still the spare underwear and pants to worry about, but they get switched back and forth from my purse to the school backpack, where they spend way too much time.
Son the younger started preschool fulltime this fall. He’s working up to the long Spanish school hours, gradually but still more quickly than I would like. But he comes home singing the songs he’s learned at school. So I guess if he’s happy there, it’s not really about me. I guess.
The teenage boys at my sons’ school just look like stretched-out five-year-olds to me. Although I know they consider themselves pretty mature, with their pimples and their motorbikes and their jeans hanging down. Still, no matter how grown-up, a son stays a son, even when they get beyond the proper height for children (and I’m badly paraphrasing Sandra Boynton’s introduction to “Philadelphia Chicken” on that).
My little guy turns three this month. A friend pointed out that means he’s not a baby anymore. I don’t think that’s quite true, and I’m sure once her bruise fades, my friend will agree with me also.
Not that I want to go back to diapers. Just say the words “poopie diaper” and watch all responsible adults and potential cleaner-uppers clear the room instantly.
And granted, it is nice to travel more lightly, to not look like a Himalayan expeditioner every time I buy a stamp. Now that there’s more room, I can even think about reclaiming some of my own junk that I used to carry around, whatever it was that I used to stick in my purse – maybe a lipstick I’ll now have time to think about using occasionally, or something to kill time if I’m stuck somewhere waiting by myself. Because right now my bag is looking awfully empty.

Share  Posted by Deborah Klosky at 2:18 AM | Permalink

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