This morning, as I sip my herbal tea and watch the sun rise with my child hooked to my boob, I'm pondering why--in every pack of 50 diapers--there seems to be a handful of unrelaiable diaper duds.
These "diaper duds" look like all the others and are thus impossible to distinguish...until they've let you down.
And while they look like a normal diaper, they have absolutely no ability to absorb or contain. Rather, poop and pee topple out everywhere, from the sides and out the back and in every which direction so as to create the maximum mess.
Liam and I are annoyed by them. They're responsible for 50% of the baby clothes and blankets now in the washer. This morning, one cunning diaper dud even managed to soak through and ruin the cloth cover on Liam's swing. He alerted me to the surprise problem with a loud, frustrated cry.
He rather liked the outfit he was wearing, too. I had just put him in it, and he looked adorable, and now we had to take it off already. Ugh.
I know that Liam and I are not alone in our unfortunate encounters with diaper duds. Several of my friends' children have endured surprise explosions at the most inconvenient of times.
As a math teacher on maternity leave who experiences periodic yet strong waves of desire for problem solving, number crunching, or probability calculations, I think I'll start some basic record-keeping in an effort to stay one step ahead of these pesky pants and predict their next downfall. Wish me luck.
