Peed off? Better than being peed on.

Post #3 from the Affect:

New Daddy Diary, Entry#2
I've never considered myself to be tolerant of
being urinated on. Throughout my life before parenthood I can honestly not
remember it ever happening to me, and I've never felt like I've missed out on
anything. RKelly jokes aside, it's just not appealing to have someone else's
waste poured on you.I have the distinct honor of being the first parent to be
baptized by our son. The maiden voyage on the U.S.S.P.P happened during his
first bath. He was laying on a towel on the sink and both of us had turned our
heads for just a moment when my shoulder felt suddenly warm, then moist. How did
I react, naturally I put my hand up, changed my shirt and moved on with little
more than a chuckle.Since we have learned the lesson that little boys will
urinate upon immediate contact with air. Thus removing the diaper becomes an act
of skill. My son has peed on himself already more times than I care to mention.
Face, hair, belly, arms, back. He has expressed his displeasure with our choice
of window blinds and paint color in a like manner. To save yet another cleaning
of the wall, I have elected to have my hand covered in pee more than once.I'm
getting quicker with the new diaper as well, but then you've wasted a diaper.
And while diapers aren't comparable to rare coinage in value, I'm too miserly to
throw anything away. No, before you ask, I don't put it on anyway, I just hate
throwing a slightly damp diaper away. So I resist the urge to let it air dry and
throw it in the Diaper Genie anyway. And I sulk.It's amazing the things you
become accustomed to. Being peed on. Cleaning someone else's anus. Being spit up
on. Ear bloodying screams. And we're not even four weeks in. Think of what I'll
become numb to next week.