Thanks are in order to my own dear fella - and the fellas of my Crows Nest Mother's Group - for these fatherly rules to live by.
(1) Yes, you can clean their 'bits'. In fact. You have to. As far as I know, my child is unable to reach down and give herself a good healthy wipe. So too can you have a bath with your baby - even if your baby happens to be of the opposite gender. I guarantee you they don't know your Knob from your Knee. In the water, you're just one big life raft anyway.
(2) You must locate the nappy resting place in the sky. A nappy lives a short but fulfilling life. Once it has served its purpose it humbly accepts its role as martyr and is ready to move on to the hereafter. The nappy does NOT belong plonked on the end of the changing table. It does not follow the from-dust-to-dust-ashes-to-ashes routine. It will NOT self destruct. Your task, dear Man, is to honour the humble nappy and lead it safely on it's path to heaven. Put it in the nappy bin. Or the garbage. Just get rid of it, because the changing job doesn't cease the minute the bub has a fresh one on. It's the circle of life, and I'll be damned if I have to do a funeral service for each nappy you change, as well as for my own...
(3) No, you can't go surfing. Just because you work all day in an office doesn't mean that you're entitled to have weekends "off". Suggesting that we go to the beach so that you can go swimming is not my idea of a balanced parenting act. Oh, what fun - I get to watch you on your surfboard while I feed, clothe and entertain our daughter. Again. For the 7th day in a row. No Sir, I'm afraid your days of individual hobbies are temporarily on hold.
(4) A nappy does NOT constitute an appropriately attired bottom half. Dudes - I will give you some credit here. Fashion isn't exactly your forte. Which is why (most of the time) it's the mums who are out on shopping duty ensuring that our precious bundles are, well, fashionably bundled. We provide the clothes and ask only that you dress your child on the odd occasion. What surprises me is that given the infrequency of the requested dressing scenario, men seem genetically programmed to only do only half a job. Repeatedly my baby is delivered to me in a tee shirt without any leggings. Repeatedly, I'm handed Frankie with only the requisite number of buttons are done to ensure the fabric won't fall to the ground. C'mon guys - we don't ask you to spend hours dressing yourselves, simply that you spend a few minutes to make your child presentable!
(5) The "Hunger Hospital Pass" is unacceptable. Righto fellas. You'll have to own up to this at some point, so it might as well be now. When you sons and daughters cry in the middle of the night and you have spent all of 5 minutes trying to settle them, what is it that makes you pass them to us and mumble "he must be hungry" as you're crawling back under the covers? It's an excuse that will fly for the first few weeks if you're lucky. But there comes a point when those exact words start to mean "I've had enough and I want to go to sleep." Humph. Maybe next time you snuggle up under the covers with those roaming hands of yours, I'll just roll over pleading the "I must be hungry" defense...
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