He Said Diapers Weren’t a Man’s Job — So I Called His Father

It was 2:04 a.m. when our daughter, Rosie, let out a wail that shook the walls sharp, desperate, and unmistakably a code red diaper situation. I’d already been up three times that night, my body aching from exhaustion, my brain fried from a looming work deadline. Barely functioning, I nudged my husband, Cole. “Can you…
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