Travel Tale With A Baby

After four years, we are finally all going to Australia to visit family.  We are siked.  The last time we went the boys were 2 and 5.  So, this should be a much easier to manage trip now that they are older.

But, boy do we have some stories.  My faves involve diapers.  The experiences were horrible at the time of course but so funny to tell now.

One of my ultimate favorites was when Boo was 16 months old.  He hated going on a changing table.  I mean hated it.  He would buck and scream as if we were lying him down to be executed or something.  We were better off just doing it on the floor somewhere.  So, that’s what we normally did it, unless we just couldn’t.  Like when you are stuck on a plane for 14 hours and he has a

We were better off just changing his diaper on the floor somewhere.  So, that’s what we normally did it, unless we just couldn’t.  Like when you are stuck on a plane for 14 hours and he has a poo.  Oh, Lordy.  You can get away with changing a pee pee diaper in your seat, but not the other.  That shit (no pun intended) has to be done in the bathroom.

You can get away with changing a wet diaper in your seat, but not the other.  That shit (no pun intended) has to be done in the bathroom.

So, deep breath…off you go.  Hubby volunteered.  Such a trooper he was.  He went off down the aisle, armed and ready.  Big D and I were just hanging in our seats.

Tick tock, tick tock…..where IS he?

They’d been gone for a really long time.  I decide I’d better go check on them. Those changing tables in planes are SO small.  Much smaller than normal ones.  And Boo was actually a pretty big kid.  I was thinking that Hubby must be having some problems.

I start down the aisle and see them coming back.  Uh-oh.  He is looking at me like, “you have no idea what just went down in there”.

So, evidently, the minute he put Boo on the changing table he began flailing and kicking and screaming, “No Daddy No, Stop Daddy!!!” at top note.  Legs were kicking and poo was flying.  Some hit the walls.  A knock on the door from some concerned and well-meaning person outside, “Is everything okay in there”?

“Yes, everything’s fine!”, hubby shouts back, through gritted teeth.  Miraculously no poop lands on anyone or their clothing.  Hubby manages to get a clean diaper onto Boo and cleans off the walls.

They leave the bathroom, amongst stares.  Hubby, red-faced walks out, mumbling to people, “Sorry, he hates the changing table”.

He tells me all this after he sits down and I laugh until my sides hurt.