Tony Updates His Status May 2010

Tony Carrillo: is baby-proof.

I always used to say that raising children was easy. Truthfully, I assume anything I haven’t tried is easy. I no longer say that about riding a bicycle backwards, and I no longer say it about raising children.

My brother recently asked me to babysit my niece. I was excited to play with her but I wasn’t sure what babies like to do. I pulled out a stack of my favorite kung fu movies and dug my old skateboard out of the garage.

My niece’s name is Penny. When my brother showed up at the door, I realized she probably wouldn’t be doing any skateboarding. She was still pretty small. I wasn’t sure how fast babies grow, but in the two weeks since I had seen her last, she hadn’t gotten much bigger.

“You’re sure this is all right?” my brother asked. “Did you put away your swords?”
“Yes!” I said.
“And the scary clown paintings?”
“Yessssss!” I said.
“What’s the skateboard for?”
“Um… I thought she might like to watch me do some heel-flips.”
“First of all, she won’t. Second, you don’t know how to skate. OK, so all the info you need is written down here for you. Everything she needs is in the bag: her bottles, her nap schedule and diapers. We’ll be back around eight.”

“Parents just don’t understand, eh Penny?” I said, after he had left. Penny slept quietly in her car seat. I decided to watch Chinese Hercules until she woke up.

After about 10 minutes there was a sound effect that didn’t come from the movie. Penny woke up and looked at me as if to ask, “Was that me?”
All of a sudden it occurred to her that she was somewhere she didn’t recognize, with someone who was not her mom or dad, watching something no normal person would choose to watch.

She started to cry. I started to panic. I stopped the movie and put on Enter the Dragon instead, to no avail. I tried to feed her some Loco Krispis. I tried to entertain her by sitting cross-legged on the skateboard and scooting myself across the floor. Still she cried. Then I noticed the odor.

Wearing a pair of gardening gloves, I inspected the diaper. Sure enough, cataclysm. I removed the offensive diaper. After holding her backside under some running water in the tub, I wrapped Penny in a clean towel. She didn’t cry. Rather, she seemed to be aware this wasn’t the way things were normally done, and was waiting to see how it would turn out.

I dug through the diaper bag. No diapers. I checked again. Still no diapers. Penny scrunched her nose. “OK Pen, we’ll have to improvise.”

There was a convenience store nearby that I figured would sell diapers. It was just a matter of getting there. I unrolled an entire roll of paper towels and stuffed it all into an old backpack. I lowered Penny into the bag, zipped it up snuggly under her arms, and wore it on my chest so she was facing me.

Knowing nothing of baby products, I realized I needed to bring the dirty diaper with me so I would know what to buy when we got to the store. Unfortunately, the stink was so potent, I would have to either hold my breath all the way there, or come up with an innovative solution.

The answer was to tie one end of a nylon rope to my skateboard, place the dirty diaper on the board, and pull it behind me where we couldn’t smell it. We started off down the street. Penny slouched in her backpack, staring at me with a look of disdain beyond her years, while I dragged a skateboarding stink bomb 15 feet behind me.

Twice the diaper had to be put back on the board after being bumped off, but for the most part the ride went smoothly. With the store now in view, we had to cross one fairly busy street. We had just reached the opposite side, when I felt the skateboard stop behind me. The wheels had gotten jammed in a pothole about halfway across the street. I tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. For a moment I considered running back to dislodge it, but the light was about to change, and I wouldn’t go back in the crosswalk with Penny, so I gave it one hard pull.

The skateboard came rolling to a stop at my feet, but without its cargo. Penny and I watched in silent horror as car after car passed within inches of the diaper. Finally, a large pickup truck rumbled past, and hit the diaper head on. It exploded. Penny turned her head away from the carnage, but I continued to watch until the truck was out of sight. We continued solemnly to the store.

When we got home, I changed Penny into her new digs. The store only carried adult diapers. The result made Penny look something like an upside down mushroom. She had a great time plopping down on her well-cushioned bottom, giggling, getting up, and plopping down again. I scooted around the room on my skateboard and we had a great time.

When my brother got back, I told him that this was the diaper he left me, but he wasn’t buying it.