This post was inspired by the Red Writing Hood. The prompt was to "write what you know" but in a new genre— like a period piece. I opted to set a typical morning fifty years into the future.
A wail came from the baby monitor. I opened one eye. It was 5am. I nudged Mike.
"It's your turn."
"Seriously. It's your turn."
With a sigh, Mike felt around the bedside table for the ELMO RETRIEVAL 5000. He typed "CRIB" into the keypad and turned back over, snoring instantly.
I closed my eyes knowing Mazzy would be occupied for the next 30-40 minutes as "Elmo's Universe" played on a loop projected on the ceiling above her crib.
Back to sweet sweet sleeeeeee….
Thirty minutes always passes so quickly.
Begrudgingly, I got up and went to the kitchen. Pressed a button that poured both my coffee and Mazzy's milk simultaneously. Once full, I tilted and twirled the sippy cup to check for leakage.
How no one had yet to successfully design a spill-proof sippy cup was beyond me. Especially with the new flying strollers. Take one fast turn and that milk is all over your flight suit. You have to dry clean those flight suits, too.
I walked through the Purell Purification Door into the nursery. (Mike and I had watched a segment about Purell on 60 Milliseconds the other night. Apparently, before Purell mainstreamed the "Baby Bubble", they used to make something called "hand sanitizer". To think— fifty years ago, parents thought you could only transmit germs through your hands!)
I scooped Mazzy into my arms and held her until she quieted. Then I laid her down on the changing table and summoned the Diaper Genie.
Genie glided into the nursery prepared to take over. Sadly, I noticed an awful grinding sound as she shifted into gear.
"It might be time for a new Genie," I mistakenly said out loud.
"But Miss Ilana! I have at least two good years left!"
Great. I always forgot the newer models were programmed with feelings.
Genie ripped off Mazzy's diaper and threw it into her composting compartment. Then she used a retractable spray hose and a dryer to clean Mazzy's ass. What the hell did people do before diaper changing robots? Touch the crap themselves?? Shudder.
It was time to pick Mazzy's outift. Luckily, I had just downloaded Rachel Zoe on my iPortation device.
A few clicks and Rachel was rifling through my daughter's closet. She selected a vintage jumpsuit from 2030. Obviously.
I quickly pressed EXIT on the iPort just as Rachel began hawking her latest baby diet pills— "Mazzy will feel like she ate an entire meal after swallowing just one!" (Tagline: Your baby will die for my diet pills.)
Finally dressed, I set Mazzy on the floor. She immediately hightailed it out of the nursery.
"WAIT!" I shouted as I ran after her.
Predictably, Mazzy beelined straight for the flying stroller and started fondling the jet engine. "Mike!!! Didn't I tell you to babyproof that thing???!!!"
I picked Mazzy back up and searched for the hovering chair. It must be floating around here somewhere…
It was then I noticed the smell.
"Did you poop again?"
My answer came in the form of a brown liquidy substance seeping out from her diaper down the side of her leg. Her vintage jumpsuit— ruined.
I heard a grinding in the distance and then silence.
Nothing. Crap. Figures she would pick this exact moment to break down.
The stench was unbearable.
Damn, I knew I shouldn't have bought him that noise-cancelling pillow for Father's Day.
Mazzy began to cry.
OH. MY. ELMO. Was I going to have to deal with this diaper situation manually???
Like it's fucking 2011 up in here.