High Doo

Many moons ago, before my dear chitlings were a twinkle in my eye and long before the arrival of the lard baby in my midsection, I backpacked through Greece.

I soaked in the culture, the sights and sounds of modern convenience juxtaposed with ancient history.  I admired the Parthenon and imagined the roar of the crows watching the original Olympic games.

I pondered the amount of body acne that would appear after competitors slopped olive oil all over their bodies for wrestling matches…

Those were the Olympic games of a bygone era.

This weekend I competed in an original Olympic event, a battleground unseen among those hallowed ruins but is still a pure form of athleticism, cunning, and nail-biting emotion:

Mile-High Diaper Duty.

Parents around the world can attest cleaning a poop-filled diaper in an airplane lavatory at 37,000 feet elevation is a feat worthy of an Olympic medal!

Because changing a diaper in a bathroom the size of an Altoids tin isn’t enough of a challenge for this event, it was necessary to add a few more elements of surprise.

Namely four prunes and six grapes for lunch.

I still have no idea why we fed her that.

Our dear little baby had a whole-body cleansing that coincided with two airline fights and four hours of driving for the day.

Never fear, we are not parents willing to shrink from any challenge.  Lizard and I changed six dirty diapers, not counting the diapers that were just wet.  Most were in the airplane lavatory, though one memorable diaper change took place on my lap with a splash of turbulence along the way.

We’re just that good.

Our airline Olympics aren’t done yet.  We’re supposed to fly again on Sunday, but that’s only if the levee at the Omaha airport doesn’t go kaploowee (that’s a word spell-check can’t find) and drown the runway.

One thing I can guarantee, however, bowel-stirring fruits will not be on the menu Sunday.

The end.

Do you have any airline Olympic stories to tell?  (Don’t forget to rate this post – and share it with your friends!)