OK, here comes another post about grandparenting. And this story is Sarah’s more than mine, because in my official capacity as grandfather of the child, I have declared myself exempt from diaper duties, save in some dire emergency.

But Sarah never declared such an exemption. She babysat Payton last night so the parents could have a quiet dinner out, their first outing since Payton was born a little over a week ago.

I was on duty in the pressbox at Bengal Field for a baseball game, so I missed the babysitting fun. During a break in the action, I called home to see how the job was going. Sarah joyfully exclaimed, “Payton made Honey a poo poo diaper!”

“Gosh,” I thought as I mused to myself, “Could Sarah have been happier if she found a $50 bill in her granddaughter’s diaper?”

Did we react like that when our kids handed us a smelly diaper?

I can’t remember, but I did recall the next day how my late Uncle Jack spoke on the subject of babies and diapers in his role as our family’s earthy, armchair philosopher and commentator on life. I heard Uncle Jack relate this illustration more than once, so Sarah’s exclamation about Payton’s smelly offering connected right away with Uncle Jack’s observation, which I recall roughly like so: “The little kid has just handed you a wad of _____ . And what do you do? You look at the sweet little face smiling at you, you pick her up, and you kiss her!” ((The previous blank is a bleep for the”s” word expletive. Uncle Jack’s diction was, . . . well, poignant?)

Alas, such is parental love. But even moreso, grandparental love.

In searching for a link for a safe picture to use on the subject of poopoo diapers, I came across a blogsite named “This Girl’s Gone Child” with a special section on Poo Poo Haiku . The site is worth a click, and you can even post an original haiku on the subject if the inspiration strikes you.  (I posted a haiku there myself–check it out!)