Mommy Mortification
I'm a bit behind in folding laundry at the moment, so when it came time to dress Andrew for the day, I pulled out a pair of overalls he hasn't worn in a while. I was happy to see that they still fit, and we carried on.
Fast-forward to this afternoon. After yesterday's 25-minute nap, I was pleased that Andrew slept for a full hour. (I'm hoping to get 90 minutes tomorrow.) The only trouble was that when he woke up and came down the stairs, I was busy with the plum vanilla preserves on the stove, and so I didn't actually see him come down except for a quick glance to make sure he was actually down. It wasn't until I was done with the preserves that I saw the diaper on the dining room floor, all crumpled.
Most of you are now groaning and grinning, but I have to say: this didn't attract my notice. Andrew can reach his diaper changing station very easily, and has a habit of pulling his diapers out and tossing them all over the floor. I figured this diaper was just another Casualty of Toddler, and I ignored it for the time being.
So we're talking to Bill over Skype, and Andrew, since he only napped for an hour, was getting slap-happy. He knocked over the lamp behind the sofa, and was consequently put in a time-out. It wasn't until I was taking him out of Baby Jail (which consists of the pack-n-play in the office) that I realized his butt felt....weird.
Like, not as padded as it normally feels.
Kind of defined, too. And I couldn't feel the ridges of the diaper, like I normally can.
"Andrew," I said, suddenly remembering the diaper downstairs.
Andrew burst into giggles.
So I took him to his bedroom, and sure enough: no diaper. Even odder: the snaps on the bottom of his overalls were still attached.
"How on earth did you pull off your diaper?" I wondered, and Andrew giggled again.
So I replaced the diaper, redid his snaps, and went to continue the Skyping with Bill.
Fast forward a little more. Because Andrew woke up early, and because a friend who lives out near Dulles is sick and I wanted to take her chicken soup, I decided that it would be fun if Andrew and I stopped by the Udvar-Hazy Center, because after 4pm they stop charging for parking. We got there right smack at 4pm, went in with the rest of the cheapskates, and Andrew proceeded to ooh and ahh over the various planes "flying" overhead.
It was while Andrew was running, full-tilt toward the space shuttle Enterprise, that it happened. While I watched. Run run run SPLAT. And his diaper was swinging around one of his ankles, like some perverse elementary school gym exercise.
"EEK! Andrew, come back here!"
I caught him, pulled off the diaper, and quickly folded it into a little bundle, which I then set on top of my purse, trying to look innocent while I attempted to conceal it under my arm.
"Oh, how cute!" someone exclaimed.
Which was when I realized we had an audience. Who were either ignoring the diaper under my arm, or hadn't seen it.
"Oh, yes, very," said I.
"I bet he keeps you running," said the witness.
"You have no idea," said I. "Do you know where the nearest bathrooms are?"
And sure enough, upon reaching the bathroom: Andrew's snaps were still fastened.
At this point, I realized it wasn't Andrew, unless he has another pair of hands that I haven't noticed. (Although, to be fair, he's a boy, and I hear they grow extra hands. Except I thought they didn't grow them until they were with their girlfriends in dark movie theaters/cars/tents/bedrooms.)
It wasn't until after we'd arrived home, and that blasted diaper fell a third time, while Andrew was squirming around on the stairs, that I figured it out. That seam that runs up the center of the overalls had been slowly working the diaper to one side, until it popped one of the fasteners, causing the diaper to fall down the other leg.
Needless the say, the overalls will be joining the "Andrew doesn't wear this anymore" pile as soon as they've been washed. (And his diaper was promptly replaced.)
On the bright side, at least today's diaper misadventures did not come with puddles.