the diaper dance

When Not So changes Happy Fun Baby’s diaper, he has a whole routine. There is the diaper-changing song. There is the ceremonial Holding of the Clean Diaper by the baby, who stops wriggling in order to devote his full attention to this critical task. There is the countdown to diapering (“One…two…three…butts up!”). There is even the baby-powder shimmy, in which Not So grabs the baby’s ankles, holds them aloft, and gives them a wriggle. It takes Not So about three times as long to change the baby’s diaper as it takes me.

Happy Fun Baby likes Not So’s diaper changes the best.

The baby thinks I’m okay, too. I have the Magic Boobs, and therefore I am required whenever the world becomes too much for him. It’s hard to be a toddler. There are so many things he can’t do, like reach doorknobs and talk, and there are even more things that he isn’t allowed to do, like play with mama’s cell phone, change channels on the TV, and climb from the futon to the top of the end table. But, see, if I would just let him climb up there, he could reach the lampshade! I am a mean, mean mama. He tells me this at length, but since he doesn’t speak English yet, I remain blissfully ignorant.

Although, today? Today he was coloring (a new development in and of itself) and when Not So said “Here is a red crayon,” the baby quite clearly and distinctly said “Red.” He repeated it several times for good measure. Can full sentences be far behind? (Of course, he then proceeded to call all the crayons “red,” so perhaps signing the baby up for podcasts is a bit premature.)

I’ve been woefully tired, probably because me and my Magic Boobs haven’t had a day off in more than a year. We’ve been working nights, too, since there are molars on the horizon and Happy Fun Baby’s sleep has gone to hell. Not that it was far from hell before, but now? Now I think fondly of the nights when I’d “only” get four solid hours of sleep. I think I’m adapting, though. I might not remember what it’s like to be well-rested, but I no longer feel like my brain is encased in cotton. Which is a good thing, really.

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6 thoughts on “the diaper dance”

  1. The Diaper Dance is the epitome of cute, so there’s no chance I’d try to get rid of it. 2.3 years, though – my hat’s off to you! I keep telling myself it won’t be much longer…

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  2. Oh, just let Not So keep doing the Diaper Dancing and all that jazz. Shit, it gets YOU out of doing that diaper thing that is not even close to dancing. I don’t care how long it takes him you need the rest.

    And from one with Magic Boobs to another, it took my son 2.3 years to get over the magic juice. And man, with hardly a night off, I feel your pain. But strangely enough, one day, the magic will wear off. And hell if it wasn’t months before I could fully enjoy my sleep!

    Hang in there, truly. It does happen. Eventually. Until then, savor the girls. They tend to lose a little shape after the magic drys up.

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  3. You know, you’d think there would be a lot more pee-spraying, but apparently the baby is so enthralled by the Diaper Dance that he holds it in. That is NOT to say that Not So has never been peed on while changing the baby…but it hasn’t happened for a while. Of course, now that I’ve said that the baby will no doubt pee all over everyone at the next diaper change. ::LOL::

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  4. First of all, diaper dance…too sweet! But I really need to know, has Not So ever been peed on while dancing Baby’s undiapered bottom around like that? And then RED! Not the easiest word to say for a wee one…your kid never ceases to amaze me.

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  5. The red thing makes total sense to me! Ours called flowers “atsa” — outside — for a long time, because I was always saying to her, “Let’s go outside and look at the flowers.” So as far as I’m concerned, red totally counts as a word.
    Hope the molars cease their reign of evil soon.

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