I'm clearly not ready to be a father. Oh, I can handle the tasks we learned at Baby Care. That's not the issue. Rather, I'm concerned that each of those words made me laugh. This brings into question whether I possess the requisite maturity level for this rather significant life experience.
To be fair, you would've been laughing, too.
About Iris, our instructor. She was a rather squat woman with a down-home accent and a highly energetic demeanor. Iris's already animated voice seemed to rise with excitement as she anticipated sharing what I can only assume were her own original phrases. "Make a boobie sandwich." That's one of them. There's more, but this
Iris was the type of person who would be perfectly cast as "Happy Consumer No. 1" in a late night infomercial: "Doggie Poop Helper (tm) Changed My Life! Now I have more time to make boobie sandwiches!!!" And you'd believe her. What was that number to call again?
Close your eyes and picture a younger version of your grandmother. Now imagine grandma talking excitedly about parts of the human anatomy and body functions using elementary school terms. That was Baby Care in a nutshell.
Poop, boobies, boogers.
Now as far as my efforts to use hand shadows to pick the baby's nose during the slideshow, that's another story.
[I should mention that Erica and I liked Iris and found her to be endearing. She reminded us in words and in actions that it's supposed to be fun. And we'll always have Iris-isms to make us laugh when things get stressful.]
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