WONDERFUL, JUST PLAIN OUT WONDERFUL! After a 2 hour snooze on his rugged recliner that sparkled with shattered glass scattered about from his little snacks, the thing—he refused to call it a What—started wailing. And what irked him the most was that, that's not the only thing that had happened—it threw up…on his bed.
It coated his sheets with an opaque rose colored bile that stunk even worse than his dirty, never-washed socks that kept moving to one place to another around his home. He didn't know if it was the socks moving because clearly, socks can't move or if it was Max. He chose the second option instead of the first one; it made more sense for a living being to move the socks than a no-celled sock. But who would dare put his socks in their mouth?
The baby continued to wail, wiggling its tiny fist around in the air. It was clearly in discomfort from the stomach acids spewing out of its rosy-red lips, and the burning sensation that traveled from its throat to its mouth. The taste was awfully bitter, certainly not a good taste that the baby would love to taste again.
"Quiet, you're whining.". The Grinch grumbled, "You're giving me a migraine.". The baby did not comply to his request as the baby continued to cry its little heart out, paying no heed to the Grinch who had approached and was now glaring down to it.
The Grinch was beyond frustrated! How do you calm an infant down? He has never been told or shown since he ran away from Whoville to Mt. Crumpit at the age of 8. Who could learn how to take care of a child at that age? Well, certainly not him. He didn't even know how to hold one properly.
"Quiet down," he tried again, placing his oddly hairy green hands on his equally hairy hips and scowled, "You're crying about puking? Tell me about being weak! A real man would take it…Well, whatever gender you are…". he placed his thumb under his chin while his index finger, on the same hand, was placed near his cheek. He shuddered, thinking about what he would have to do to check.
"I'm certainly not looki—", his eyes widened, and his nose twitched to a sudden new smell in the air. "What is that stench?!". The smell was not a good one. It was beyond an awful smell! He looked around, right, left, up, and down, not finding the cause of the smell until his eyes rested upon the teary-eyed, wailing, red baby.
Oh…no…What had I done to deserve this fate…? The Grinch thought angrily as he searched for some type of cloth that would serve as a diaper for the time being. Throwing that crying-thing out in the snow certainly sounds like a grand idea right about now!
The only thing The Grinch knew how to do was change a baby's diaper, he shamefully remembered. In Pre-K in Who-School Elementary, Martha May had invited him to play 'House' with her. He complied, having an awfully hard time at rejecting her request. While playing, he had ended up playing the role as an imaginary "daddy", and had ended up changing a mutated, teeth-bitten plastic baby Who-doll that looked more like a dog's gnawing toy than an actual doll.
He remembered how Martha had shown him how to change the plastic baby's diaper. He recalled her squeaky, but non-annoying 5-year old voice boasting about how her mother had shown her how to change a diaper and when she had given it a try—changing her doll's 'dirty' diaper—for the first time, and how she had gotten it in one go.
Him—he took time, but Martha was patient. It took the rest of their free-time for him to learn, but in the end when he had finally done it, Martha had given him a smooch on his cheek, and a big hug. Like dipping a single drop of blood in a glass of milk, his face had exploded in a vibrant blush, to which she had teased and giggled to him about.
Now, in this current day, he was sort of glad that he had accepted her request at playing 'House.' It was coming into use now, and there wasn't much of a difference about changing a real life baby from a plastic baby, the only thing is that the live baby's mess smelled.
With ear plugs shoved up his nostrils, goggles over his eyes, and rusty metal tongs in hand, The Grinch slowly walked up to the glassy eyed baby who looked up to him in mild curiosity. Cautiously leaning over the baby, whom was spread out on his work bench that he swore that he would coat 100 layers of disinfectant on the surface area where the hairy-red baby laid after this was done.
The Grinch ever so slowly peeled the wings of the diaper that held it onto the child off…but then hesitated. He wasn't comfortable with this. This was so alien to him. Not only was he changing a dirty diaper, but he was going to see what the gender was so he could clarify it as a 'her' or a 'he' so he was no longer labeling it as an 'it'. But with new self-reassurance, telling himself that it would be over in less than a second, he slowly pulled the front down with the tong, he nearly dropped the tong in shock. The baby was a…Girl.