Elisabeth has reached the “dressing me is like dressing a raging octopus hopped up on caffeine” stage of her development. She is just so busy being…busy that to have to hold still for more than .025 seconds at a time is the worst imaginable kind of torture for her.
And yet every morning, being the incredibly mean mommy that I am, I insist that she get dressed. I’ve already made several concessions to Her Wiggliness. Dresses get in the way of her crawling, so they’re out. Those adorable baby overalls – not gonna happen. And I won’t even attempt putting a hair bow on her fuzzy little head. She. Will. Rebel. Shoes, socks – fuhgeddaboutem.
But on the subject of onesie, pants and shirts there can be no compromise. It’s winter, after all.
This morning, Elisabeth put up an exceptionally strong battle. She wailed, she somersaulted, she attempted to throw herself off the couch, she tried to distract me by blowing raspberries on my arm. She stiffened her body. Chubby legs were repeatedly pulled out of warm leggings. In the end, I emerged victorious. Sweaty, exhausted, but victorious. She was dressed for the day.
She flashed me a smile as she crawled off in search of adventure.
Elisabeth has several different smiles. There is the open mouthed, full of joy, “I’m a baby and the world is wonderful” smile. There is the meanie-face, wrinkly nosed, “I’m going to do something naughty and you’re not going to stop me because I’m so cute” smile. And then, THEN there is the uber-cocky, awfully adorable, mischievous to the max “I just got away with something” smile. THAT is the smile she gave me. My spidey-senses were tingling, but I couldn’t see any trails of shredded toilet paper or dumped out bowls of cat food, so I decided I must have imagined it and went on with my day.
A little while later, she took a two hour nap. I’m just going to repeat that, because it may be the only time that I actually get to do so. SHE TOOK A TWO HOUR NAP.
I cleaned the kitchen, did some laundry, caught up on campaign work. I even managed to eat lunch without a little gremlin attached to my leg, begging for food.
When she finally awoke, I was anxious for a good hug. There’s nothing like squeezing a freshly awake baby. Yum!
This time, however, I noticed that her bottom was a bit soggy. Cursing the cheap diapers forced upon me by our tiny budget, I headed downstairs to change her.
And that’s when I discovered the reason for the sinister smile.
She wasn’t wearing a diaper.