siercia | A humourous tale from my Sunday

My brother was visiting this weekend. He talked my dad into coming up today to spend the day and give him a ride home. So, the day was spent with the three of us, Dad and Nick.

We went out in the morning for Dim Sum, and when we came home, it was just about Miss Widget's naptime. My Dad offered to take her up for her nap, and I said sure.

He comes downstairs, and she's crying, but she quiets down pretty quickly. After a few minutes my dad says "Oh, she had a big messy diaper, and I got some on her outfit when I was cleaning her up. I didn't know where to look for a new one, so I just put her down with a diaper on." My mom-spidey sense tingles for a second, thinking "Hmmmm, she's pretty adept at those pampers flaps," but I'm not about to wake her up from her nap to get her dressed. Besides, how bad could it be?

If at this very moment, you're thinking that it could be very, very bad, you aren't going to be surprised.

Miss Widget wakes up from her nap, and we can hear her playing up there. I head up after a few minutes, and when I walk into her room it smells baaaad. Now, my father has before professed not knowing where the diaper pail is, so I head over there, figuring that he's left her poopy diaper on the changing table. (No, this time he's left in on top of the diaper pail. Duh.) So, I fold up the diaper, chuck it into the can, turn on the light, turn to go over to get the baby, and see that she has in fact taken her diaper off. Walk a few more steps and realize that (hear my brain whirring here *process process process*) that it smells worse over here, and that my darling child is completely covered in shit.

No lie, completely covered. It's all over her face, in her hair, on her hands, on her torso, legs and feet. It is smeared all over the crib, all over the bedding, all over her teddies. There is shit everywhere. And she is standing there grinning, like she's just been having the time of her life.

Witness my screaming howl of dismay. Yelling for my Dad to get in here, and Wiley to run a bath. Wiping her off as best I could with Wipes, and making my father carry her little poo covered body downstairs for the bath. Gathering all the bedding, and the teddies and washing them on hothothot water.

Tonight, after they left I called my mother to tell her what "her husband" had done. I didn't even need to tell her the whole story - as soon as I said that he'd put her down to nap in just a diaper, she knew exactly what was coming. If it was this obvious to me, and this obvious to my mother, how is it possible that this man, who raised the same four kids my mother did, thought nothing of doing this?

Argh.