Not that I always want to write about poop, but it seems like some of the craziest things with kids involve it. This time, it started while I was out for an after-work run. Michelle had put Celia in the jolly jumper, and Celia was really going at it, bouncing up and down vigorously, when Michelle suddenly had the ultra parental intuition that Celia had made a mess.
Sure enough, poop was already everywhere.
When I got home, there was Celia running around with only a diaper on.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Poop explosion when she was in the jolly jumper,” Michelle replied casually as she stirred a pot of macaroni.
I went into the kitchen for a glass of water and suddenly Michelle burst out, “Celia! Where’s your diaper?!”
Celia was running around completely naked. She’s been learning to dress and undress herself. She’s actually quite adamant about figuring it out on her own, although I haven’t yet seen her fully put on a shirt properly. She does almost get it, but starts freaking out when an arm is stuck in the neck hole or some such awkward arrangement.
Celia gave us a huge grin, then ran back to the front room where some cartoon was playing on the computer. It was such a funny thing to see, in the middle of winter, that I followed her and called out, “Michelle! Where’s the camera?”
The photographer in me went nuts, taking photos from every angle as she danced and ran around the house in the nude with a humongous grin on her face. She really loves being naked, this little girl. She’ll take every opportunity to do it, as far as I can tell. After her evening baths she usually tries to remain unclothed as long as possible, and protests loudly when I finally pin her squirming body down to strap the diaper on.
The photo shoot was all fun and games until, of course, I was reminded of why she normally wears diapers. I was craning my neck for the perfect photo when I realized that she was crouching down, rubbing her hands in a big puddle of pee.
“Aah! Celia!” I scooped her up and took her straight to the shower. Ah, yes. This is why they wear diapers in the first place! How could I have forgotten?
I wonder if there’s a learning lesson here. I mean, it seems pretty obvious that we should make her wear diapers. Duh. She’s only fifteen months. But it was certainly a wonderful moment watching her dance around happily, completely freed from the bondage of clothing and diapers. I don’t know. I suppose I’d probably let her do it again if it made me smile enough. If the fun-o-meter ranks high enough, I’m willing to take the risk.
It does strike me, though, as I continue to write about poop and pee, just how much bodily functions are integral to parenting. Seems like you just can’t get around ‘em. More like, you’ve got to go right through them, puddles, squishes and all.