My office is across the hallway from my son’s room. When he was little, during the Dark Times, I would be so afraid of waking him, that when I’d feel a cough coming on, I’d run out of my office, through the bedroom, into the bathroom, into the walk-in closet, and bury my face in my hanging shirts and cough as quietly as I could.
Sometimes, when I’m rocking my kid to sleep and my nose itches, I’ll gently scratch it on the back of his head.
As any veteran parent will tell you, your kid’s poop comes in stages. Newborn poop, baby poop, and then grown-up poop. The first time my wife was out of the house and I had to change a real dirty diaper, I gagged so hard I went blind for five seconds.