Last Friday, it went something like this:
"How do we put on diapers? I don't how to do that," Amy said.
"Good question," I said.
Silence. Fog hugged the cliffs and filled the sky overhead.
"I'm sure it can't be that hard," I said. "The diaper service will give us an instructional DVD or something, don't you think?"
Silence. Sea otters frolicked and played in the water.
"I mean, we'll have to learn how to wipe B's bottom and keep it rash free and all that stuff," I said.
Silence. A jogger passed.
"I mean, I've been taking care of my bottom for 42 years. How hard can it be?"
Silence. I walked ahead proudly.
"But that's pretty contained," Amy answers. "That's not the same thing."
Even more silence.
"What are we talking about again?" I asked.