life on the changing table

You just can’t reason with a baby.  No matter how many times I tell Charlie, “Hang on, bud, I’ll change your diaper.  I know that you’re carrying a full load, and I have every intention of getting you some dry undies in just a minute” he insists on crying and raising a fuss.  Good grief, it says right on the package that they’re good up to 10 pounds…Kim calls him 2×4 Charlie when he arches his back and goes all stiff!

But you know, as soon as I get him cleaned up and into some dry skivvies (that’s a Paw Paw word) he’s a brand new man.  No more tears, no more squirming.  No more 2×4 Charlie.

In fact, we’ve discovered that he kind of likes hanging out on his changing table.  It might be the toys that are on the edge of his sight, or the light above him that captures his attention.  It could be the fact that he’s come to equate the changing table with having his needs met.  Whatever it is, he goes still, calm, and has even started cooing and “talking” to us as we stand and oogle at him.

Monday was a pretty big day in Charlie’s life.  He reached two milestones: first official smile–you know, in response to me and Kim (mostly Kim!), and first thumb-sucking.  I don’t know that he’s mastered either one, but we captured both on camera…check out that faux-hawk.  It’s totally natural–no product!

I guess we’re all a little like a baby, aren’t we?  We get ourselves messed up, start to crying and wailing, won’t listen to reason, and need someone else to step in and clean up the mess.  I never really thought about it too much, but I like the analogy of the changing table.  When the Lord does a clean-up job on me, I want to stay in that place, too.  When he talks to me, I want to give him a big smile, maybe even try to talk back to him. It’s safe there, and I know that I’m in good hands. I’ll probably end up with another mess in the near future, but things are pretty good on the changing table…