At some point during the afternoon it became time to change Baby BK's diaper. I kind of got that message when it was so heavy that he was having difficulty keeping it on his flat little tail. Baby BK did not inherit his backside from his mommy unless the gene works in reverse for him. His little dimpled behind is so flat it's almost concave. Trust me, that is not my issue.
Anyway, his diaper was practically falling off of him so I thought I'd beat gravity to the punch and change it for him. While Big BK ran downstairs to fetch a diaper (That is the true benefit of having children, they can fetch things for you. I mean, aside from the love of course.) Baby BK ran around naked. That is his favorite thing to do. He runs around and feels of his little bottom until it's red. He enjoys this tremendously. He seriously ran around only long enough for his brother to run downstairs, grab a diaper and run back up. Oh, and long enough for me to yell at him 2000 times to get in his room so I could put a diaper on his naked butt. That doesn't take as long as you'd think. I'm quite good at yelling at this point in my life. I've had a lot of practice. Ask hubby.
Fast forward a few minutes. Baby BK has finally come in for his diaper. He is no longer naked so now he has to work very hard at getting to his butt. He does that very often. I'm telling you, he likes to rub his butt. I think it's from when I was pregnant and I rubbed my belly all the time. Some of those hard lumps had be his caboose, he was virtually folded up in half inside of me. (For those of you unaware, I am not exactly long through the torso. I had very little room for my 20 1/2 inch babies. They were kind of cramped in there and very easy to see when they moved around.)
Big BK went into his room and yelled at me. He said something incoherent and I pretended to be paying attention like I usually do and said, "Really?" Generally this suffices as a response. In this case it didn't. He yelled again. This time I understood him very well as he started in his room and finished his exclamation across the hall in his brother's room, where I was located. "Mommy, somebody pooped in my room."
"What?" from his really quick thinking mommy.
"Somebody pooped in my room." By this time I was following him to his room, completely grossed out by what I was expecting to find. "Who did it?"
"Well, good grief, bubby, who do you think did it?" I replied, always sensitive to the emotional and intellectual growth of my children. "Show me."
He took me to his room and there in the middle of his sage green carpet was a nice little gift from his brother. Thank goodness the child gets very little fiber, is all I can say. I personally think this is a reflection of the condition of their relationship, the fact that Baby BK did it in his brother's room rather than the bathroom, his mommy's room, the hallway, or his own bedroom. Either that or my baby is no where close to being potty trained. Drat, I was hoping he'd be sharp enough to learn that on his own.
Of course we cleaned it up. Big BK promptly told Daddy even though he was encouraged not to. Mommy doesn't like getting grief from Daddy because the Baby doesn't have a diaper on. Mommy gets a lot of grief from Daddy and she tries to save herself some whenever possible. Hey, we're cutting back on everything around here.
This is Baby BK eating blueberry pancakes with whipped cream. It looks like he and Daddy are dressed for church. Makes me wonder what dummy gave the baby blueberry anything right before church. Sheesh.
Please feel free to remind my baby of this incident when he's old enough to be embarrassed by it. I plan to. I plan to alot. Another benefit of having children. :)
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