Babies, Dogs and an endless cycle
Money finds money, fame follows fame and like finds like in so many ways.
I mused on these thoughts as I pushed the Mighty-Headed one and his cheeky-pearl top sister around The Park.
It seemed apt. By 8am this morning I had changed four nappies, each fruitier than the last and demanding a swift handed dexterity that would have satisfied Andy Murray and Paul Newman.
It seemed that every dog on its morning run found a spot directly in my eyeline to crouch and unload. After three circuits I could describe the angle of backleg bend on everything from a giant poodle to a French bulldog.
There are times when, nappy sack opened and wipes at the ready that it is just the wonderful world of pooh without the Winnie.
I can de-nappy, wipe and change with both hands, on any surface with enough space to park a baby’s bottom. I have seen the Y in De-Mystification and worn presents from each orifice from each baby.
There is something therapeutic about a nappy change. It combines trust, grooming and that thought somewhere in your mind that in a few decades you might need the care repaying so you do your best.
So as I dodged a desperate Daschund near the park entrance I did count my blessings, safe in the knowledge that one day they will be toilet trained and I will have breakfast without the smell of baby wipes. But by then they will probably want a dog.