Help is a very valuable thing. We can all think of countless times when we have been in trouble and had to ask for assistance. I actually had this down to a science when I was in college. Our dorms came furnished with a two standard-issue metal framed beds, but no one ever used those. Instead we all built our own loft beds out of lumber from Home Depot. The beds usually consisted of four-by-four posts and two-by-six rails, so they were sturdy beasts.
The drawback to these monsters was that they had to be removed each summer. Predictably, disassembling the bed was often too big a job for just one person. Unfortunately, everyone was so preoccupied with moving their own things out that there was little time to help someone else. I quickly learned, that in order to get enough attention to warrant help, one had to create an emergency. So I would begin the process alone by propping my door open so that I could be heard in the hall and then I would take apart the heaviest, most cumbersome pieces first. Inevitably, I would get something heavy stuck over my head while another piece was tumbling down. This would create quite a racket. It was at this point that I would yell for help and wait for the entire floor to come running to my aid.
Other types of help are appreciated as well, but with trepidation. Perhaps the first time you offered to take your dad’s credit card and fill up the gas tank in his car for him, he was thankful, but nervous. Or maybe you were thankfully scared the time a neighbor got your car running for you with a hammer.
Today, I got some help help that caused me to fear. It all started while I was home from work to grab a quick bite to eat during lunch. I have two beautiful daughters and the four-year-old is quite the mother hen when it comes to her little sister. My ham sandwich had been delicious and I was just about to head out the door when the girls walked on by and Maddie announced that she was going to change Cami’s diaper for us.
“What did she say?” my wife asked me.
“I think she is going to change Cami’s diaper,” I replied. We both stared at each other as the same thought flooded both of our heads at the same time: It sounds nice, but is it a good idea? We must have reached the same conclusion because neither of us moved as we waited anxiously for the result. Deep down inside, we both wanted this idea to work. Just think of the possibilities that could follow if this endeavor were to be a success. We could never have to change another diaper again!
I really needed to get back to work, but I wanted to know how this whole episode would turn out. I didn’t have to wait long. Only moments after the announcement, a voice rang out down the hall. “Mommy! Cami’s poop fell out of her diaper and it’s on the floor!”
“Bye, Honey!” I said. “I really should get back to the office.”
“But, I have to hold the baby,” she stammered as she cradled our newborn and gave me an irresistible look that convinced me to stick around a few more minutes.
Carefully watching my step, I made my way down the hall and found the offending pile. “That was a lot grosser than I thought it would be,” Maddie said to me with a twisted face.
“You’ll get used to it with practice,” I said as I ruffled her hair and got out the carpet cleaner. “You’re a good little helper.”
