PRIDE GOETH BEFORE THE DIAPER CHANGE

They didn’t ask me how to spell her name. By the time we heard about it, the Texas birth certificate had already been filed -- Hollynd Eliza Call. She is my first great-grandchild. She is the exceptional daughter of my exceptional granddaughter, Savannah, who is the first child of my exceptional daughter, Susan, who is my first child. Hollynd was born in San Antonio and I thought maybe that was how just they spelled it in Texas. It turns out that is not all that I did not know about Hollynd.

Mary Kay is amazed at how Savannah has thoroughly studied everything she can find about parenting. I reminded her that Savannah graduated from BYU in 3 years while she was on the BYU Ballroom Dance Team. One of the books Savannah read was about how to get babies to sleep all night. As a result, Hollynd had been placed onto a strict schedule. Each afternoon she is awakened from her nap at 4:30 p.m. and goes to bed consistently at 8:00 p.m. Unlike most of my other grandchildren, Hollynd sleeps all night long. Mary Kay just purred about her being a perfect little angel. As a proud great-grandfather, I bought into this story of angelic babyhood. When everyone else went to the Playmill, I even volunteered to be the one to stay at the cabin with Hollynd, thinking it would be cake — after all, she was the perfect child and I had nothing to fear.

So, off they went. As Savannah was leaving, she asked me in a voice of concern if I thought I could handle tending Hollynd for a few hours. "Relax..." I said with great confidence, reminding her that I had 15 other grandchildren and this was not my first rodeo — after all Hollynd was a perfect baby. As the tail lights went down the driveway, my confidence flickered a little when I realized that all I had planned for was a bottle and then off to bed.

Her bottle was finished off by 8:10 p.m. Before putting Hollynd down for the night, I wisely decided to check her diaper. Oh, surprise! The perfect child had a poopy diaper with a high-grade, up-the-back migration. I knew that these were tricky and gathered some diaper changing provisions and started to work. Even though I was kind, gentle, and careful, Hollynd took exception to this fuddy old guy changing her diaper. All she knew was that someone besides her mother was taking her clothes off and cleaning her up with cold baby wipes. The more I tried to help her, the more she resisted and she soon morphed into 25 pounds of slippery, squirming, screaming baby-madness. She had moves that I had never seen before. I had to hold at least one of her legs in the air to prevent her escape while I cleaned up and contained the contamination. My previous diaper experience kicked in and I reached back for a few moves that I learned long ago. Still, changing a diaper on a protesting baby is a bigger challenge than I remembered. As I was finishing, Hollynd crawled around the living room floor, sobbing and telling all the stuffed animals her opinion of my grandparenting skills.

Hollynd was still objecting as I carried her upstairs to her bedroom. After a few minutes of rocking, her crying gradually stopped and gave way to soft, stuttered sobs as she drifted off to sleep. Carefully lowering her into bed, I quietly tiptoed out of the room and then paused to catch my breath. It had been a tough fight -- I was still flushed and dripping. As I reviewed the struggle in my mind, I realized that if I hadn’t gotten a takedown in the third round, I probably would have lost the match.

Here she is at the cabin, taking her very first big-tub bath, just a few days after the diaper escapade. I'm no longer fooled by her deceptive innocence and double-dimpled charm. Her picture strikes fear in my heart. She is a slippery, strong little opponent who is now three months older and could probably take me in a re-match.