Riding home from work, I spy the ultimate tourist family at the other end of the car: Mom and three kids, ages 10, 6 and 1. First the kids try El surfing, without much luck. Onto the aisle floor they go, laughing. Mom tries to get them to behave, to sit down, but they are too excited about the ride.
They all talk animatedly, especially the 1-year-old, who chatters the entire ride in baby-speak, alternately punctuating his babble with loud SCREAMS.
Finally, Mom gets the idea that maybe his screams are from wet pants. She stood him up on the seat between her legs and grabbed a diaper from her bag. She held the diaper out in front of his crotch, fully extended, as she eased the dirty (not THAT dirty) diaper off his butt. All the while her two other kids paid rapt attention.
As she was about to deftly install the new dy-dee, he let loose with a torrid stream. Uproarious laughter rose from his siblings, as his Mom tried to corral the waterfall. Even the perpetrator started giggling.
As did I.
Meanwhile, yesterday Cheryl noted this diaper discretion:
I sat next to a youngish woman with a baby this morning on the Red Line. She changed the baby's diaper and was so good at it if I had been sitting there I would never have known what she was doing. I didn't see or smell the dirty diaper and it didn't end up on the floor or in someone's lap (which I have seen before). It was impressive indeed!