Suburban Butch Dad Report, 2/19/2010

Little Bit, aka Spawn2, is a very active child.  She’s not one to sit quietly in a demure manner and watch the world go by.  She watches everything like it’s a sport, head swinging back and forth as her eyes track our movements, arms flapping and her high-pitched baby voice saying ‘ta-ta-ta-da-da-da’ in her attempt to communicate how excited she is about everything.  In addition, she’s always expanding on her animal imitations:  growls, yips, howler monkey screeches.

Nor is she stationary unless she’s completely, passed-out asleep.  Lately, changing her diaper has become a bit of an athletic event.  Something like trying to bathe a cat, though she isn’t trying to shred me like taco meat.  So maybe more like trying to catch a greased piglet.  I wonder if calf-roping skills would help.  Makes me seriously contemplate restraints, you know, just so I can get the dirty diaper off without her rolling away from me, spreading diaper contents all over herself and the crib.  Even if I can get the dirty one off, and her butt wiped clean, getting a new one on is next to impossible.   She’s learned to roll from back to front now, so the whole time I’m trying to pull the old one off and put the new one on, she’s flipping over on her side so she can play with her crib toys. and And she’s giggling and smiling and looking relentlessly cute the whole time, so I can’t even be mad at her.  In response, I’ve developed a technique that involves holding onto one meaty thigh the whole time, trying desperately to keep her on her back while I fumble her diapers on and off with the other hand.

Maybe I should be learning to diaper her from back to front, just give up and accept that she’s not going to lie on her back smiling up at me when she has so many better things to do.   I’m already doing this when putting her pants back on.  I can get one foot in, maybe, but by the time I’m putting the other one in, she’s twisting and turning like a corkscrew.  So I just pull them on as best I can, then stand her up to finish the job.

As wiggly as she is, it’s gonna get worse.  She’s close to figuring out how to roll as a mode of transportation.  That’ll be followed by crawling (another 6 month old we know just started crawling last week).  And, she’s also beginning to work toward pulling herself up to a standing position using furniture (or one of us).  That leads to cruising furniture, which, as we all know, is one of the signs of impending household apocalypse (aka, toddler toddling).  So, before long I’ll be chasing her giggling, crawling self around, hoping desperately that the dirty diaper hanging half off her rapidly retreating baby-buns will hold long enough for me to re-capture her.  And if I’ve got that much running-stooping-scooping in my near future, maybe it’s time to start up yoga again.  And make sure the ibuprofen bottle is fully stocked.


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