(Gulp!)

Raising my third infant, I've earned the title of experienced, professional diaper-changer. I'm inured to the smell. I can tolerate the painful sonic barrage of shrieking that sometimes accompanies baby's efforts. I can operate efficiently around wriggling legs with minimal smearage. But I still encounter the unexpected.

Yesterday I spotted a booger - a tiny dry flake (or so it appeared), right at the edge of her nostril. Ready to dislodge itself with a breath or snort, it would dive into anonymous obscurity on carpet or clothes, to be vacuumed or laundered to eventual oblivion. I spied it when I laid her down, and my eye was drawn repeatedly toward it whilst I wiped, coo'ed, and exchanged smiles with Saadia. Usually, I don't waste my time with these bits of dirt.

Usually I say, yet on this day I took the corner of my burp cloth and attacked the offending particle with zealous relish. I don't know why I did it - a moment of enthusiasm, perhaps infused with a tinge of guilt (having seen Michelle clean the nose of many a baby for less - she has been always the more fastidious in regards to the hygeine of our diminutive charges).

I swiped. I swiped again. The flake remained astonishingly steadfast. Saadia smiled agape at the new game. I gathered myself. I have seen Michelle be quite forceful, so: more gusto ... push up with the corner of the cloth, a bit of wrist action, and then ...

Oh my! I had seen merely the tip of the iceburg. Here was a veritable glob, now on the upper lip! No matter, one more quick dab.

Huh. Where'd it go? It's not on the cloth. Oh ... Saadia is beaming up at her daddy. Adoringly. Open-mouthed.

Please. Don't tell Michelle. She'll kill me.





Look at her, so innocent and trusting.







Updated with photos 12/18/06.