You may recall that I had a bit of a struggle changing Aaron's diaper. In the spirit of full disclosure, there was an incident in the warmup round prior to us keeping the grandchildren on our own that I should probably share.
Our own kids grew up in the era of cloth diapers and safety pins. Disposables had just come on the market, but the early models left a lot to be desired. Mainly that they weren't particularly snug and pee or poop often ran down little legs.
Today's diapers have come a long way, baby. There is an extensive selection of brands, styles, and sizes for every age and situation (even for old folks--yikes!). One with which I was not familiar is the pull-up diaper. This turns out to be a sort of panty/diaper hybrid for kids like my granddaughter Addison who is in potty training transition.
She wears "big girl panties" during waking hours, a regular diaper at night, and a pull-up during naps.
The day after we arrived from Ecuador I was still weary from the journey. It was time for Addison's nap and I decided to lie down on a pallet on the floor for a siesta of my own.
When we woke up I was still a bit groggy. I put her on the changing table and pulled down her diaper for a quick wet wipe and switch to panties.
And there it was---a big, nasty, stinky glob of you-know-what.
You may also recall I previously admitted a lack of expertise and experience in this department. So I did the only thing I could think of.
I said, "Addison, don't move. We've got to get this thing off of you." I quickly discovered a significant design flaw with these transitional panties--they don't transition very well off the kid's body when they're full of poop.
So of course some smeared on her leg in the process of removing the diaper. I repeated, "Please don't move or touch anything, baby girl. I'll be right back!"
What do I do with this gross thing that I'm helplessly standing there holding at arm's length? Once again I did the only thing I could think of.
I threw it in the bath tub and ran back to the bedroom.
A pile of wet wipes later Addison was cleaned up. But no one had told me where her regular panties were. So I did the only thing I could think of.
I put her back in her bed bottomless and said, "Stay right here please."
I went downstairs and announced that Addison had a poop in her diaper and I had cleaned it up.
"Where is it?"
"In the tub."
"Where is she?"
"In the bed. Without panties. I don't know where they are."
At this moment my son and daughter-in-law were perhaps questioning the wisdom of asking us (I'm being diplomatic--asking me) to take care of their kids for four days. Thankfully Cynthia has ninja prowess in these matters, and I tried to compensate for my ineptness with a steady dose of fun.
Will I ever get the hang of changing diapers. Well, it Depends-----.