Like father, like son

Since Princess was born, I have slowly begun to appreciate the depth of feeling hubby has about nappies (diapers), especially pooey ones. Take the first night we were home with our precious little bundle. Desiring to be a helpful father and husband, hubby stoically accompanied me to our darling's night-time nappy change. And then I heard him wretching the entire way downstairs and outside (that thing's too gross to keep in the house!) as he carried the nappy to the bin/trash can. Hey, I thought, it's merely mind over matter. He'll get used to it. These things take time. I placated myself with thoughts such as these.

But time does not heal everything, I've learned. And I've also learned just how much I'm loved. If I never get another bouquet of roses, I will still know I am loved because hubby changed almost all the nappies in our home during the first few months of this nauseated pregnancy. This was a most generous offer for someone who is still trying to devise new methods of 'no touch' nappy changes.

Okay, I looked and looked, but I guess the CD with the best picture isn't here. So you'll have to use your imagination. Picture hubby with a nappy bucket in hand, gloves, and a green industrial face mask in place. He has recently foregone the face mask, but the others remain.

I have sometimes asked myself what must happen in a person's psyche for them to develop such hatred of nappies. Was it genetic? We may never know as his father was lucky enough to live in the days of, 'mummy, will you change jr.?". Did he have some horrible childhood experience with really gross things that led to repression of memories? There was no easy answer.

And then I met my son. Thor. A stoic little boy. He can take a lot - and he gives a lot. For the last half year, we've been moving around a lot so Thor has grown used to a neat and tidy little disposable bottom. We've finally settled down in the last month and now he finds himself in cloth. Not a huge problem for the little guy, but about two weeks ago, I noticed him walking by his soiled (and not just wee) nappy and I heard a little cough and gag. Now he had a little cold so I figured he must just be a bit choked up from mucous, right?

Except, a few days later - similar circumstances - it happened again. Could my little guy be just like his father? And at such a tender age? He hasn't had any bad experiences - yet. What could have triggered such a reaction? Is there some 'pooh sensitive' center of the brain? I don't know. All I know is that a few nights ago, at the tender age of two, our little Thor tossed his cookies at the sight of his own nappy. There could be no other explanation. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't believe it!

Oh, no, not again