After two mornings of soaked clothing, we’ve been brainstorming ways to reduce The Girlie’s accumulation of micturation: less milk before bed, saltier dinner, that kind of thing. I absentmindedly offered to buy some heavy-duty overnight diapers, eliciting a surprising response from the wife: “I never heard of such a thing!”
Now my innovative contributions to our life are few and far between, so I quickly moved to capitalize on this turn of events, cranking up my confidence and delivering my comments with a tiny touch of knowingness. “Oh, nighttime diapers? …oh yeah, everyone knows about those.” I was clearly faking it, and she didn’t seem to notice. I closed the deal while I was still ahead: “I’ll grab some at Target.”
So today, I found myself walking back and forth in the diaper aisle, completely flummoxed. Euphemisms and permutations were everywhere, but I figured deductive reasoning would prevail: the package marked ‘jumbo’ (which was itself no larger than its companions) and bearing the logo ‘Bright Mornings’ (okay, ‘dry mornings’ would have been better, but ‘bright’ must mean less crying, right?) went into the cart after a full 5 minutes of deliberation.
So my shock was complete when I returned home to find that I had purchased 34 diapers which are practically nonexistent. If Ella were going to try to fit into jeans that she’s outgrown, we’d put her in these. If you were planning on changing your child’s diaper every 30 minutes, you’d love these. I mean, if babies wore g-strings, these would be them. I have no idea what I’ll do with them.