If you're a young mother with even the slightest doubt as to the paternity of your child, an appearance on Maury Povich is NOT going to make your life better. An invitation to the Maury Povich show should be accompanied by a carton of Virginia Slims and a Calvin-pissing sticker for adhesion on the busted back window of your Fiero up on cinder blocks in the front yard, patiently awaiting the installation of a new valve cover gasket your baby-daddy lifted from a pick n' pull.
The 1st law of thermodynamics does not apply to babies. An infant may consume a mere 4 oz of milk and 4 oz of rice cereal but still pump out a turd that would alarm an African elephant. Clearly, Sir Isaac Newton never changed a diaper.
If you're at home w/the kids all day they won't care what you wear, or if you choose to shower, or if you have a few large and low-hanging boogs, or whatever. But the outside world is far more judgmental, speaking specifically of the cackling gas station cashiers Chevron employs. Put down the frozen breakfast corn dogs, Gemma, and, Shawlinda, turn off the View blaring in the background so your empty heads can contemplate their own problems for a change.
Discovery Channel is 70% sharks, 20% Man vs. Wild and 10% a reminder from the scientific community to Christians: "Only Retards Believe In Creationism".
An infant should never, under any circumstance, be fed prunes. Why such parental excitement over periodic irregularity? It's better your little guy be slightly constipated, mildly plugged, than movin' it like a pastry bag of melted ice cream squeezed by the Incredible Hulk.
If you're out and about with the kids and nature calls, it might seem like a time-saver to take them into the restroom stall whilst you stand there and relieve yourself. Not a good idea, as any toddler will eventually succumb to the temptation to touch your pee stream. Apparently curiosity killed the cat and still found time to spray a toddler with urine.
The Baby Bjorn was invented by a woman, for no man would design a way to suspend a kid at the perfect height to repeatedly mule-kick him in the balls.
It's nice to be needed, even if only to rinse "puke up" from your daughter's hair at 3am while your wife pretends to sleep soundly through the mêlée. It has been said "life is what happens when you're making plans", and since I surely didn't plan to clean up a Hansel & Gretel-like barf trail between my daughter's bed, garbage can and two separate toilets, I'd have to agree.
