Staying Inside

We've gotten out every day this week, and today I remembered why that was a good idea.

First of all, Jett ate breakfast for two hours this morning. That's right, he sat in his highchair for two hours eating breakfast - because he wanted to. First he drank a smoothie I made for him out of frozen blueberries and milk. Then he ate cereal the way he requested it - three kinds in one bowl. Then, because by then I was standing in the kitchen prepping food for lunch, he ate a bowl of sweet potatoes. Then he drank a cup of water. That took two hours and 10 books, which I read to him, because reading is better than tearing my hair out.

Now a breakfast like that pretty much guarantees two more diaper changes before lunch, which is a huge hassle because you never know if it's going to be an easy diaper change or a difficult one. An easy one is one that, if you are willing to change Jett's diaper wherever he is willing to lay down (on my bed, on his bed, on the living room carpet, on his carpet, on the kitchen floor, in the crib, etc.) he will only kick you once, he will only roll on to his stomach once, and you probably won't get any poop on your hands. A difficult one is full-on screaming, wild thrashing, and the understanding afterwards that if you don't want to contaminate the rest of your house, you have to take a shower.

We started out his diaper change on the good path, but quickly turned the corner to difficult. When I had to follow through on my threat to relocate him from his bedroom floor to the changing table, it became nearly impossible.

Then he noticed the open container of wipes.
Then I shut the container of wipes.
Then he screamed his fool head off.
I opened the wipes.

And then he spent the next five minutes - I'm not exaggerating - trying to close the box of wipes.

Push. Pop open.
Push, half click, pop open.
Push. Pop open. Pop open. Pop open. Pop open. Pop. Pop. Pop.

I stood next to the changing table, gritted my teeth, and screamed silently for five minutes because oh my god if I help him close that lid he is going to scream his fool head off and I don't even have his diaper on him yet, but if I don't help him with that lid I am going to stand here and go insane. Click the lid! Click the lid! Click the lid! Your pinky is not strong enough to click the lid! Use your index finger! Your thumb! Your fist! Quit trying to balance the box of wipes on the edge of the changing table, it needs to be stable, it needs more resistance. Just put it flat on the table and pound the lid down. No, haven't you figured out that your pinky is not strong enough to click the lid? Oh my god, there is no way you are going to get it closed with your toe. Just use your hand and CLICK THE LID!!! I'm losing ten years of my life standing next to this changing table and screaming silently at my child.

Click.

Victory. The rest of the diaper change was easy as pie.

Then I threw away the wipes.
I didn't know that he wanted to throw away the wipes.

I didn't know that "Don't jump on Kai" translates to "Go ahead, do it one more time for good measure." I didn't know.

I did know that this morning when he woke up his sheet was full of pee. But then it was nap time; the pee had dried. Kai was crying. Jett was Ready for his nap, and Ready is fleeting. Oh so fleeting.

Kai was crying. The sheet was dry. Jett was ready.

The sheet stayed. Tomorrow we will get outside.