Some background: So, before Jordan was born, one of the things I was most worried about, aside from how to keep my baby alive in general, was what do do with all the shit.
I mean that quite literally.
So after asking friends and reading on the Internet and what have you, I went out and bought a Diaper Champ. We immediately all hated it. And then we were all, do we spend more money on a Diaper Genie? Do we get another kind? What do we do?
And then we realized we had this great kitchen trash can we weren't using. It's metal, and opens when you step on it, and has these two flaps that close tightly at the top. You just use normal garbage bags.
It is kind of perfect. I mean, when it's closed.
When you open it, if there's poop in there, you get a whiff of death. But it does the job we need it to, and I would go this route again without dicking around with stupid baby diaper pails.
OK. So the metal part does not get stinky, but the plastic trash can inside does. Which is why I like to pull it out and clean it and let it bake in the sun on the deck every so often.
So the other night Nick was changing Jordan, and I came in, opened the trash can, and pulled out the entire inside can. Nick thought I'd made a mistake and said, "Just pull the bag out!" (See below. And no, I don't know why he looks like he has mutant hands and wears bell bottoms. Neither are true.)
Anyway, this was NOT what I wanted to do, because the stink, it was not limited to that bag.
But Nick decided to take charge of the situation, and grabbed the bag by the handles and cinched it. (Also, sorry for making him look like he has a pea-head. He actually has an unusually large one.)
This made me mad.
So I said, "But the plastic can smells too! I need to clean it."
And then, as if to prove my point, I bent over and stuck my head in and inhaled, really deeply.
I'll show him, I will.And then I almost threw up, right then and there.
I don't think I've ever seen Nick laugh so hard in all the time I've known him.