Chapter 4 I'm Never Doing That Again

About fifteen years ago, Amy and her family completely redid their three townhomes. Everything was replaced; carpets, plumbing, wiring, fixtures, even rotten studs and worn out sheetrock. One of the things that Amy insisted on was a complex intercom system linking every room in all three homes. Anyone using one of the many intercom panels throughout the three homes could be in contact with everyone else at the flick of a dial.

After she had started the coffee pot, Amy turned her kitchen intercom panel on. She flipped the dial to the setting for her parent's kitchen. She heard the sounds of her mother humming as she moved around her kitchen, so Amy pressed the buzzer and spoke.

"Morning, Mom," she called cheerily. Her mother's humming and singing always had that effect on her.

"Oh, hi, dear," her mother's voice floated back through the speaker and filled Amy's kitchen. "How are you?"

"Fine. Is Dad up yet," Amy asked.

"He got up an hour ago and headed out to meet the guys for coffee." Amy could hear the chuckle in her mother's voice. Her dad met weekly with other retired military men at a local coffee shop where they hashed and re-hashed and fought and re-fought every war in recent memory.

"How did Hudson do last night," her mom asked next.

Amy smiled at the memory of Hudson curled up in Bobby's arms in her guest room bed. She carefully phrased her response. "Well, you remember I came to you for some clothes for Bobby after he showed up at my door yesterday? I convinced him to stay the night and sleep in my guest room. Hudson climbed out of his crib and I found him in bed with Bobby." Amy paused to take a breath and let her words sink in with her mother.

"And how did Bobby take to finding a small child sharing his bed," Patty wondered.

"When I found Hudson, he was curled up asleep on Bobby's chest, wrapped securely in his grandfather's arms," Amy told her.

"Oh, my goodness," Patty cooed. "Seems like somebody's taken to being a grandfather pretty well."

"Seems so. We on for lunch later?"

"Absolutely." Amy heard a soft buzz come through her intercom speaker and noticed that the light next to Trey's name was glowing. "I gotta go, Mom. Trey's buzzing me. 'Bye."

"'Bye, Sweetie."

Amy flipped the dial again. "Morning, Trey! How are you?" Another day had begun for the close-knit Wainwright family.

The small boy stirred and stretched. The older man grunted and grumbled and loosened his hold. The small boy awakened fully and realized that he was both hungry and in possession of a very dirty diaper; he began to fuss and poke at the larger body he was on top of.

The older man slowly woke up as the small boy continued to poke, then he began to hear signs of a baby fussing and opened his eyes.

"Hey, Hudson," the man cooed softly. "What's the matter little guy?"

Hudson continued to fuss and wipe sleepily at his eyes. He looked up fully into the older man's face and became confused. This man was not his father. He began to fuss louder and to sob, "Daddy!"

"Oh, hey! It's all right," the man said gently as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "You're with your 'Boppy', Hudson. You're okay." Funny, he mused, how natural sounding it is for me to be addressing myself as 'Boppy' around Hudson.

Hudson continued to fuss and cry as Bobby pulled the boy up to his shoulder and hugged him gently, then began to pat him on the back to soothe him.

"Are you hungry, little guy," Bobby asked, as he rose from the bed. "I know I am. I wonder where your grandmother is."

Bobby had just reached the door when the smell accosted his nose. "Oh, man," he exclaimed. "What in the world?"

He shifted Hudson to his hip and looked down at the boy. "Did you go poop, little guy?"

Hudson just looked at Bobby and grinned. "Boppy," he exclaimed happily as he finally realized who was holding him.

"Are you poopy," Bobby asked him again, eyeing him closely. "'Cuz you sure smell like it."

"Poopy," Hudson hollered.

Walking out into the hall, Bobby rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his free hand, then the back of his neck. "Let's see if we can find a clean diaper somewhere."

He remembered Amy showing him where her suite of rooms was last night, and assumed Hudson might sleep in there when he stayed with her. So, it would naturally follow, that Amy would have diapers and changing supplies in there as well.

He entered her sitting room and spotted the changing table peeking out from its discreet location in the corner. He carefully placed Hudson on the table and took inventory of the supplies. He pulled out a diaper and a box of wipes. Steeling himself for the inevitable, he looked at Hudson, now lying on the changing table, kicking his legs and studying his grandfather closely.

"Okay, Hudson. Let's get you cleaned up and changed and then we'll go find ourselves something to eat, okay?"

The little boy's hand found a small toy that had been lying on the changing table, and he began waving it around and playing with it.

Bobby cautiously pulled Hudson's pajama bottoms off and draped them over the end of the changing table. The smell that assaulted his nose was unlike anything he had ever come across at a crime scene. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the smell. How do parents do this on a regular basis, he wondered. I guess they eventually get used to it.

He bravely peeled back the flaps of the diaper and pulled it away from the child's body, revealing a soggy, smelly brown mess. "Ugh," Bobby said again as the powerful odor struck him full force. He looked at Hudson. "You sure do make some smelly poop, little guy!"

Hudson just babbled and cooed and played with his toy. As he waved it around, he nearly hit Bobby, who was now bent over attempting to clean the mess with a wipe that was barely large enough to cover the palm of his hand. Another loud sound from Hudson was accompanied by the boy suddenly slamming his arms and legs down onto the changing table. This time Bobby was hit in the head with the small toy.

"Shit," he exclaimed as he jumped back from the table. "Oww," he said next as he rubbed the sore spot on his head with his hand. He tossed the used wipe in the trash can and reached for another one. "Hudson, you have to be still. You hit me on the head with that thing," he admonished the child.

He continued to wipe and clean, lifting each leg separately and checking all the little nooks and crannies, ensuring that he had removed every last bit of filth from the boy's bottom. He thought he had noticed some baby powder sitting on the lower shelf of the changing table and he bent to retrieve it. He had, however, neglected to keep one hand firmly on Hudson's belly as he did, and as soon as he crouched down, Hudson flipped over onto his belly and quickly sat up.

Bobby stood back up, white powder container in hand, and looked amazed at the boy. "Hudson," he chided softly, "you're supposed to be lying down. Come on." He began to shift the boy to lay him down when Hudson began to holler, "NO!" at the top of his lungs.

"Hudson! Yes," Bobby said more firmly as he continued to wrestle with the child. "Lay down," he commanded. He succeeded in laying the boy back down on the changing pad, only to discover that he had failed to wrap up the badly soiled diaper and the child had now stuck his foot in it.

Bobby grunted as he carefully folded the diaper and closed it with the sticky flaps. With one hand on Hudson, he tossed the diaper into the nearby trashcan, then he grabbed another wipe and cleaned the poop off the boy's foot.

He lifted Hudson's legs and slid the diaper under the small bottom. Again, he kept one hand on Hudson's belly as he reached for the baby powder. Carefully opening the powder, he tipped it to shake some onto the little boy's bottom just as the child began to pee. The pee caught him off-guard and square in the face. He grimaced and jumped back. "God damnit," he yelled in frustration. Hudson laughed with glee and began to kick his legs, yelling, "Boppy! Boppy!" as he did so.

Suddenly, Bobby heard a muffled snort coming from behind him. He turned to see Amy standing in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, failing miserably in her attempt to hide her laughter behind one hand.

"Oh, Bobby," she said between giggles. "You should have come and gotten me."

"I thought I could handle it by myself," he said ruefully. "How much did you see," he asked her as she joined him at the changing table.

"I saw you get 'baptized,'" she said with a giggle. "Was there more?"

"Only a king-sized dirty diaper," Bobby groused. "Can't you smell it?"

Amy sniffed. "Mmm. I guess I'm just used to the smell by now." She stepped up and handed him the mug of coffee and began to deftly finish cleaning Hudson and putting a fresh diaper on him.

"Well, it was a bad one. He hit me on the head waving around some toy left on the table. He flipped over and sat up before I was done. Then I hadn't folded up the diaper and thrown it away, and he started kicking and got it all over his foot – what's so funny?"

"I'm sorry. You just sound like you've never changed a diaper before." She took the pajama bottoms Bobby handed her and began to put them on Hudson.

"I haven't." He saw the look of incredulity on her face. "What's so strange about that? I didn't date any women who had little kids. And, I never got the chance to change one of Trey's."

Amy caught her breath as if to make a retort, then seemed to think better of it and fell silent. Bobby looked at her. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"No, it wasn't," she said softly. She picked Hudson up from the changing table and turned to Bobby. "I guess I deserved that." She smiled down at Hudson. "Are you hungry, Hudson? Want some cereal?"

When the little boy nodded, she smiled. "Okay, then. Let's go get some Cheerios." She turned and looked back over her shoulder at Bobby. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he said as he began to follow her out of the room. "But, I'm never doing that again."

When they got to the stairs, Bobby excused himself to go change his clothes. He arrived in the kitchen in time to hear Amy and Trey laughing hysterically at Amy's retelling of Bobby's adventure in diaper changing.

"Hudson peed on him," Trey was asking her, his eyes wide in amazement.

"Right in the face," Amy said, doubled-over with laughter. "It was hilarious."

Bobby cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway, his ears tinged red with embarrassment. Trey and Amy looked up at him and tried vainly to keep their faces straight, but were unable to as their laughter spurted out and filled the kitchen once more.

Bobby walked in and stopped at the table. He tried his best to keep a straight face, but he, too, fell into laughter when Hudson blurted out, "Boppy poopy!"

"Yeah, Boppy poopy," Bobby admitted through his chuckles. "Nothing I've done in the Army or with the NYPD prepared me for that. I have new respect for you two."

"You should try doing it at two in the morning, in the dark, when you're half-asleep," Trey said wryly. "That's a challenge."

"I'm proud of you, Trey," Bobby said seriously.

Trey looked askance at him.

"No, I mean it. Look at what you've done. You've gotten a college degree, you're running a winery and expanding it internationally, and now you're adjusting to finding yourself a single parent. That's not easy to do and you seem to be doing fine so far."

Trey looked at Bobby as tears welled up in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, fighting back a sob. "I miss her terribly. It's been hard, but living here next to Mom and my grands makes it easier. And having you here helps, too." He paused and swallowed hard, wiped his eyes. "I wish you could have met her. You would have liked each other." Amy reached over and squeezed Trey's hand and smiled at him sympathetically.

Suddenly, Hudson hollered, "MORE!" and threw his bowl on the floor. The moment was broken and life was suddenly busy again.