He'll never remember

That time I changed his diaper on the 19th century floor of the Lemon Hill mansion in Fairmount Park. After our guided tour, the house was empty, and they didn't have a changing station, so they let me sneak upstairs. The sun was setting, casting the room in oranges and reds, and the view of the city skyline was incomparable. He squealed on his diaper mat laid over the painted wooden floor as I kept looking around the sumptuously decorated room, admiring the curved wooden doors and windows and trying to imagine a life that included being invited to the wealthy merchant's suburban getaway. I simultaneously romanticized that time period while thanking my lucky stars for modern conveniences like disposable diapers.