I spent another weekend at camp--working in the nursery again.
Working in the nursery makes me laugh, because I'm mostly clueless when it comes to dealing with small children... or large children, for that matter. I suppose it's good that I'm getting some experience with other people's kids, because otherwise, any children I may have in the future will pretty much be doomed to either (1) an early death, or (2) a very traumatic childhood, resulting in emotional scars that will remain their entire lives.
Anyway, I'm sure the teenage girls working in the nursery with me thought I was a complete idiot when I held up an infant and asked, "I just fed it. Am I supposed to burp it or something now?" (The answer, actually, was no, because the kid was asleep.)
On a more optimistic note, I did manage to wipe up spit-up without gagging... it helps not to look at it while you're wiping it up. I also learned that it's a bad idea to wipe a four-month-old's hands with a tissue--apparently, tissues are fun toys. Oh, and I changed a poopy diaper--I think that was the first time. Maybe I'm weird, but I have a harder time with spit-up and snot than with diapers.
Maybe I should just find a guy to marry who already knows how to take care of kids (and cook and clean). He can be a stay-at-home dad. We won't start our family until I'm at least a tax senior (in a Big 4 firm, of course), pulling in $60k-80k/year...