An argument for going to work and staying there

Dot writes: gone are the days when Hugh used to squirt seedy yellow poo on my pyjama top while I was changing him. Gone too are the slightly more recent days when one would wonder about the smell and then realise his babygro was lined with slurry up to the neck. (Or, on the days he wore shorts, that it was time to dismantle the baby bouncer again.) This is a good thing, because he is rather more mobile now. This morning’s nappy change was messier than normal. When I’d got to the stage of trying to extract wipes one-handed while with the other hand steadying a stark-naked and pooey-bottomed infant who was standing upright on the changing table, having clawed his way up the wall, Ken had to come and help me. Changing tables in restaurant loos normally have straps for holding the child in place, but home changing tables don’t. We could change him on the floor, but he just crawls away. Can anyone tell me where to get some tranquilizer darts?

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