A long time ago (i.e. about two kids in diapers, one in pull-ups and one losing her first tooth, ago) and way before I worked up enough nerve to go ahead and push "publish" on this old blog, a bunch of my mom friends and I would make a little extra diaper money by working with local marketing research companies and participate in consumer focus groups.
We were sort of like bloggers, but without blogs. Yeah. That's right. Bloggers without blogs. You heard it here, first.
Aaaaanyway, because we had a houseful of kids under the age of I don't remember anymore, we were real popular with the toy companies. And the toy companies were real popular with our houseful of kids, too.
Flash-forward I don't remember how many years: the phone rings and all four of my now teens and adult children will NOT do anything about it, until a robotic voice tells them to.
These guys haven't called us since forever ago, so I holler to let the machine get it which, if you have teenagers in the house then you probably already know, is totally unnecessary.
Parenting pro-tip: kids under the age of 10 will usually put themselves in charge of answering the phone, with or without your permission.
They didn't leave a message, so now my teen and adult children are all like, who the heck is Focus-R-Us? Halfway into my explanation, they lost interest. Until.
"Remember the time when Papa came over to babysit and didn't know how to change Hopey's diaper?"
True story. My mom and dad used cloth diapers. My mom was in charge of changing the babies. My dad would take the diapers down to the laundromat and, considering I also have a twin brother, that's a lot of dirty diapers. Can you blame him?
"Seriously, Papa didn't know how to change a diaper?"
Cloth diapers, yes. These new-fangled disposable diapers, no. But, considering our youngest daughter waited until I left the house to surprise her Papa with a big load of stinky, he was willing to try.
Only, my 2 year-old son REFUSED to show him where the disposable diapers were kept.
"Yep, you made Papa look for them!"
A few hours later, I came home from Focus-R-Us with my two oldest (they were asked to give their opinions on the latest Christmas line, and oh boy did they, but that's another blog post, you're welcome!) to find my son pouting in the corner (come to find out later that he put himself there, not my dad) and my father was very, very proud of himself for having changed his very first diaper, EVER!
So, I then pulled my son aside, knelt down next to him and whispered into his ear.
"Why wouldn't you show your Papa where the diapers were?"
My blonde-haired, blue-eyed, precious little baby boy pulled the pacifier from his mouth, put his hands on his hips AND explained EXACTLY why.
"Beeeeeee-caws, dat's Mommy's job!"
Aaaaaand oh how my now teenage son and I laughed...and laughed...his sisters, though...ummmmm...not so much.
"In case you're wondering, it isn't!"
Although, my now 13 year-old is taking great delight in claiming, "Papa changed my poopy diaper, NOT yours!!!" from now on. You're welcome, Hope.
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