The winner, and still champion, is… ~ February 20, 1986

David Heiller

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Monday Night Fights.”

The spotlight shines on the small mat, as the house lights dim, and the crowd suddenly murmurs to a hush. The announcer’s voice rings with the hardness of metal. He’s seen fights before, lots of them. But nothing like this one.

“Ladieeeees and gennnntlemennnnn,” he continues. “In this corner, weighing two hundred pounds, standing six feet, one half inch, the defending Diaper Dad of Birch Creek Township, David Heiiiiiiiiiller.” Five thousand dads cheer, stomp their feet, nudge each other in the ribs nodding to their Great White Hope.

Malika Squirm-Worm Heiller practicing
one of her infamous moves

“And in this corner, weighing 21 pounds, standing 29 inches, the reigning Squirm-Worm, Mollie Heiiiiller.” Now the crowd erupts with squeals, gurgles, coos and cries from 5,000 babies and their Moms who have come to watch the Kid.

The announcer steps aside, takes his seat in the radio booth, as Dad steps up to the mat. The Baby lies still, on her back, watching his eyes.

Ding!

And the action has begun folks. It’s Pajama Time and Dad, still groggy from eight hours at the office, had better not take this little Log Legs for granted. He’s got the zipper down on her jump suit. But Mollie has started her famous inside right roll. Watch how she lowers her right shoulder and swings her left knee into the air. Dad crowds into her with his ample midsection, but she slides away from him, and there—she’s on her belly. Two points for a reverse.

Now Dad flips her over again. He got the zipper down, that’s worth one point, but here comes that inside roll again. Wait, Dad grabs her left knee, and holds it with one hand, while he slips the jump suit down with the other. Now he pulls at her leg openings. Oops—a big mistake for the old man, as Mollie gets her knee free and rolls onto her belly. Another two points for the Kid. Dad pulls the outfit off while she is on her belly, so he gets no points for that cheap move.

Now she’s back on her back, as the score remains 4-1. Dad has the two snaps off her shirt. What’s this? The seldom seen forearm defense, as Dad presses his left arm from elbow to wrist at an angle across Mollie’s midsection. She’s caught in a vice, while Dad slips both shirts off her head. A fine two-point move for Dad.

With the lead a slim 4-3, Dad’s nearly half way done. He pulls off the plastic pants with his free right hand, while the left arm still is flattening the Kid. Listen to the crowd boo. They don’t think much of a one armed dad. He’s got one pin undone, but here comes Mollie’s trump card—she arches her neck, and her head is suddenly a huge ball bearing that she uses to spin onto her belly. Two more for the Kid, and the diaper only half off.

Another flip onto her back, and Dad tries the double forearm technique, with left arm pinning down Mollie’s chest, and right holding both legs across the knees. Trailing 6-3, the Dad can’t afford any more blunders. He’s got the pin off, and there’s the diaper. And that diaper is not what you’d call clean. That’s two penalty points against Mollie. Listen to those dads cheer—come on folks, she couldn’t help that.

Seriously? This angelic creature is the same one in this column?

Well, he’s got her cleaned up, and the night time diaper is in place. He’s one-handing her now, as she tries all her tricks, inside roll, neck bridge, leg kick. But Dad’s got a secret trick too, and he’s going to use it. Here it comes—the Tickle. Just as Mollie is ready to flip, Dad catches her under the arm pits with two fingers, and Mollie falls weakly onto her back again, giggling. It’s just the time he needs to get the diapers taped on, and the pajamas over her arms. Give Dad two points, and he takes the lead, 7-6 with only two legs left to go into the ‘jammies.

He pull her to her feet to finish her off, but look at that move—Mollie has grabbed the entire mat on the changing able, and lifts it up with her. That’s a point folks, and it’s all tied up, as Dad slips her feet into the p.j.’s and pulls up the zipper.

It’s all over, ladies and gentlemen, and the judges rule it a tie, 7-7. Listen to that crowd roar.

The Dad walks into the living room, as the crowd noise dies down. In the background a woman’s weary voice is heard above the TV: “How would you like to do that five times a day?”

Dad shudders and ignores the comment, basking in his efforts, and glad that they come but once a day.