Alexa Daskalakis

The Debt of the Diaper

A satirical and parody reflection on generational debt.

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They said I still owe them for the diapers.
Apparently, gratitude accrues interest.
Every ounce of milk, every sleepless night—
all itemized and waiting for repayment.

They said they changed them twice as fast,
so I wouldn’t get a rash.

I’m told my intelligence
wasn’t born from books or effort—
just a heroic act of breastfeeding.
They say genius runs in the family;
it just needed a pump.

I used to feel guilty
for something I couldn’t remember.

Then one day I walked in to—
“You didn’t pay for your childhood,”
and “You didn’t change your own diaper.”

I tried sincerely to thank them
for the breastfeeding and the diaper.
They still weren’t satisfied.

They said I was “miserable” when I was born,
but every picture of me
looks like someone trying to tame them.

I was told,
“When you were born, you gave me hell—
you wouldn’t stop crying.”

But all I was crying about
was two people arguing
over what to name me
while a nurse shut the door.

That’s when I realized the absurdity:
no one chooses to be born
with an unpaid balance.

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Disclaimer: This poem is a work of satire and fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.