Men not all bad: They’re not afraid to brave the Giant Mutant Diaper smell


Tasiyagnunpa Livermont

I know it may seem as if I come down too hard on guys sometimes. But today, God reminded me that He loves guys too.

Men are such funny creatures. I will never understand them, but I do appreciate them more and more as I see them through God’s eyes.

The other day I was watching “According to Jim” on TV. I hate that show actually, because Jim is such a stereotypical, out-of-touch husband that it drives me insane.

It was the episode where he creates a doll that farts and talks. I watched the whole show, mainly because I don’t have cable and I hate “Wheel of Fortune” more. But the whole time, I just kept thinking how awful and disgusting the main character of the show was.

Then, at church Sunday evening, my friend and I were in and out of the nursery. My youngest son was in the midst of nursery mutiny. I couldn’t blame him, because for some reason that night, the nursery smelled like a giant mutant diaper.

If you’ve ever watched that “Seinfeld” episode with the weird smell in the car that permeated everything, you’ll know sort of what I’m talking about. Only worse.

My friend didn’t even want to leave her precious toddling daughter in there. At some point, her baby girl changed hands and went with her daddy. My friend’s husband bravely entered the nursery and spent time in the stench with their daughter.

I had to laugh. Leave it to a guy not to care about the smell.

Driving home from church, I remembered that ridiculous “Jim” show that I had watched despite my irritation. I realized that this is how God meant for these crazy men He created to express their acclimation to the stench of bodily emissions. Not by creating fart dolls, but by braving putrid nurseries in the name of fatherhood.

I had told my friend she should thank God for a husband who could brave such a thing. We moms can stand any smell that emits from our own children, but may God give our children brave fathers who can stand all things stinky in the name of fatherly love.

Apparently this is something that men never grow out of and, in fact, get better at with age. I pray that someday it will be my son who bravely enters the church nursery with a toddler in tow, allowing his wife time in fellowship.

He won’t bat an eye as he asks to crack the window.

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