RaisingDad

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine desert exposure.com      Nobody likes a poopy diaper.    Nobody, that is, except me.    As strange as it sounds, I’ve always considered it a privilege to change my children’s--and now my grandchildren’s--diapers.    Other kids? Not so much.    Being a man, since nature has so effectively kept men out of the equation when it comes to baby-raising duties that bond a parent with their child--such as breastfeeding--I had to take my bonding moments where I could find them.    Now, briefly, this isn’t a dissertation about gender stereotypes or male-female roles, it’s a discussion about poopy diapers, so let’s leave social politics out of it, although, now that I think about it, poopy diapers and politics seem to go hand in hand.    Poopy diapers, besides being unsanitary, are uncomfortable. Once soiled, babies have no other...

as featured in Desert Exposure Magazine desertexposure.com Kids are funny.      My granddaughter, now five, will ask me “Guess what?” with a mischievous grin.      Okay, I’ll bite.      “What?”      “ Chickenbutt! ” she’ll say.      And she’ll laugh and laugh and laugh.      It’s become a running joke between the two of us.      As you can tell, my granddaughter has a good sense of humor, but she’s also very sweet. Earlier today, she went to the pantry and got two Fruit Roll-Ups. I thought they were both for her, so I told her to put one back.      “But this one’s for grandpa,” she told me, meaning my father. “I’m going to show him how to eat it.”      Her big heart also extends to her great-grandfather’s dog. Whenever the mangy creature ...