One thing you’re not prepared for as a new parent? The right diapers for your child. OK, some oversabi parents would try to prepare you, telling you the right brand to buy, the right one that can hold all the poo-poo in and probably the right one to give your baby a little electric shock whenever he or she pees – potty training the German way, I presume. You might not be prepared, but buy you must anyway.
When my son was born, I didn’t have to bother about that, because the diapers came easy. Friends and relatives brought them as gifts, sort of like the three wise men bringing gifts to visit Baby Jesus but instead of three wise men, they were more than 50 mixed intelligence humans. Instead of Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh, it was diapers, diapers, and more diapers. For close to six months, I didn’t have to worry about the diapers, brand, colour, size or the kilowatts of electricity packed in the German diapers. Oh, such glorious six months of sweet ignorance. So oblivious was I to the diaper situation until I heard the following words:
“Anyi, please when coming back, pop into the supermarket and buy diapers.”
The first time my wife uttered those words, I felt she was high, groggy, sleep talking or all of the above. Surely the Fort Knox of diapers stacked at the back of our bedroom door couldn’t have finished? How much poop and pee can one child have passed out?
Well, it turns out it’s quite a lot, like really, really a lot. You know that sentence a lot of people utter, that one about babies only sleeping, eating and pooing? Well, it’s true. Can you believe that? It’s actually true, go figure. If you think you’ve got diapers stacked in a 30ft container, hoping it would last you 2years, I give you six months tops.
Out diaper hunting I went, and trying to prove my worth as a father that’s manly and at the same time, slightly domesticated, I didn’t want to disappoint.
I came home with a diaper brand that though was the best, based on “popular demand”, was not the right size. It was slightly bigger, and the way it drooped when my son wore it, made him look like he was dragging around an extremely large ball sack or an unusual large amount of poop. Now I think about it, I should have kept pictures. Nothing like letting your son know, eighteen years from now, how much power you have to make him look uncool.
The second time around, I was prepared not to make mistakes. I was going to buy the right brand and on the right budget too. I was going to get the one that would fit him just right and add a little bit of baby sexy to the mix. I was going to be hailed as a loving father and husband who knows the size of his baby’s diaper. Oh how wonderful this would make me feel.
I shoved that fantasy aside as I took my wife along for the diaper shopping. Best to leave this to the professional.
Written by Anyibaba