Unfazed

Lyla is in the Baby Bjorn here. She has spit up on me multiple times while riding around in the Bjorn, and sometimes I don't even realize it until I take her out and there it is, crustified.

I still manage to reject a lot of disgusting, sticky things. Give me a donut, and I'll still ask for a plate and fork. Give me a Christmas cookie, and I'll still hold it by the very edge.

As the parent of a new baby, however, I have had to let some things go. When changing diapers, it's inconvenient to put on a haz-mat suit first. Rubber gloves will not become a habit either, for I'd spend the whole day sterilizing them or throwing them away. No, the best method is to just dig in while my brain remains in its happy place.

Sometimes during a diaper change I realize that I should've waited another two minutes. It's like she's saved a special surprise just for Daddy's hand. Now, if any other creature on the planet squirted onto my bare hand, the next moments would probably find me plotting a hasty murder. But with my own kid I find myself curiously unfazed.