One day, I noticed that Son #2's diaper needed to be changed. I called out. "Change you!"
Son #2 looked up from his toys and immediately began to run away.
I shouted out in mock surprise. "Hey! Come back here!"
However, Son #2 continued to run in his tiny tennis shoe, hands in the air and laughing with glee. I thought to myself. "My baby is a nut."
When I finally caught Son #2, I scooped him up and carried him back to his room. He wiggled and fussed as I lay him down to change his diaper. I expected to find a wet diaper but nothing more. With that in mind, I pulled out a clean diaper, one wipe, and his baby powder. Sadly, there was more inside.
I opened the diaper and found a pile of mushy poo. The horror! I only had one wipe! Why wasn't he stinky?! Was I losing my sense of smell?!
I silently cursed as I tried to keep my baby still while retrieving more wipes. Son #2 turned from side to side trying to make an escape. I held his legs in the air to keep his dirty rear from touching the ground. Visions of poop spraying from his turning body made me shudder. I hung onto his little legs with all my might as I wiped him clean.
Once finished, I sprinkled Son #2 with baby powder and placed a new diaper on him. Just as I was about to fasten the diaper, a water fountain of pee shot up to my face. I leaped away in time to see pee pee cover my baby's clean clothes, diaper, and floor beside him.
With a touch of discouragement, I knelt down to clean my baby again.