Clear!

It's kind of weird. I went from never having changed a diaper in my life before to being able to change a poopy, runny diaper in the middle of the night, by a nightlight, half-asleep, in 30 seconds, or less. This stunning emergence of modest parenting competence really sneaked up on me. As milestones go in the parenting hall of fame, I'm sure a deft hand at diaper change impresses no one over much, especially other parents. But it is one of the first few objective, tangible accomplishments I can point my finger to. But probably not in a polite company...

I find myself wanting to yell, "Clear!" when I am done changing the diaper, as if some unseen hand is holding a stop watch. As if I am being judged. It's quite strange, actually. I feel like a cowboy in a calf roping contest, working quickly but efficiently, tying three legs together and then thrusting my hands in the air exuberantly as if I have actually accomplished something significant. Something worthwhile. Something that did not involve a domesticated animal and a bondage gear.

Maybe some fathers with affinity to NASCAR feel like pit crews, doing whatever they do to let the driver speed his way to yet more sweeping left turns. But I don't even like rodeo. Or watch it. Closest I came to watching rodeo was a random "King of the Hill" episode where Bobby couldn't tie up his calf and then wanted to be a rodeo clown. So I am quite at a loss to figure out why I feel like a damn cowboy.

Ah. Well.