Valuable lessons on traveling light with baby Sadie

Last Friday, just a few days before my new granddaughter was to have been born, she actually showed up at my office. With a shade more than two weeks of living under her belt, baby Sadie was already out on an adventure with Mommy and both her grandmas to confirm no time would be wasted before establishing a “ladies day out” tradition. Trip No. 1 would be a slow pass through Amish Country on a fine summer’s day.

The crew swung by my office on their way south to give me a chance to show off the little peanut to the gang at work, who soon learned baby talk is one of my secret talents. The brief stop also provided a good opportunity for Mommy to swap out a soiled diaper — a perfectly appropriate activity given that “soil” is part of our name at the Soil & Water Conservation District. (Corny, I know. Guess you could say I’m taking “stupid dad jokes” to a whole new level as a grandpa. See there, I did it again.)

Anyhow, as Charlotte was headed to my cubicle to take care of the change, one of my co-workers was astonished to see her pull a diaper, wipes and changing pad out of what had appeared to be a stylish purse slung over her shoulder.

“Wait, is that actually a diaper bag?” she asked.

The now thrice-seasoned veteran of mommyhood delighted in showing off her new accessory.

“Yes, this is its first trip out!” she beamed, modeling the bag dramatically. “It’s tiny, but it carries everything I need.”

At that, I had to share the memory of Charlotte’s first diaper bag four years and two babies ago.

Both fresh off their first career as Army officers, Charlotte and her husband Andrew had chosen a slightly more sophisticated diaper bag. Styled as a military backpack with zippers on top of zippers, compartments inside of compartments and pop-out pockets capable of doubling its capacity, the bag was the size of a well-fed third-grader. Even when modestly packed, it weighed a metric ton, but to its credit, it carried everything necessary — short of food and fuel — to outfit a child from infancy through adulthood. I was once sent into the bag to retrieve a tube of diaper rash ointment from the labyrinth and suddenly found myself inside a fully equipped field hospital.

“Hey, you’ve got to be prepared for anything, right?” she laughed in her own defense. “I’ve learned that it’s OK to travel just a bit lighter.”

“You know, I’m living proof of that philosophy,” I laughed. “By the time I arrived as the youngest of eight kids, my own mother carried nothing more than a crumpled tissue in her handbag when she was out and about with me on her hip. Experience is a heck of a teacher.”

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John atjlorson@alonovus.com.