It all started with a snuffling snort from Chicken Little. This woke me from my blissful sleep. My poor child has a plugged nose and subsequent difficulty feeding - pulling and grunting and snorting trying to get both food and oxygen. I’m in no fit condition to be looking after this child. I have a sprained thumb which makes it hazardous to pick him up, I have a bad cold, sore throat, blocked ears, hacking cough... you get the picture.. and the absolute last thing I felt like doing at 2:30am was rousing to change a diaper. But I’m also not going to let my little one suffer in a wet and stinking mess. So up in search of a clean bum. I wiped and cleaned up the mess, stuffed the next diaper under the bottom only to have him soil not only the diaper, but the counter, the cupboards, the wall and myself before I managed to get the thing done up. So off to get another diaper... leaving baby on floor as he has proved himself capable of rolling over.
With new clean diaper on, and the nastiest parts of the mess wiped up I carried the stinker back to bed, and was laying him down when I heard another wet blast from the poor blighter’s behind.
|Cloth Diapers on the line? rain forecast...|
By the time we were on the fourth clean diaper and all trace of the nasty diaper filling substances had been safely removed from all surfaces and placed in appropriate disposal and laundry systems Chicken Little was not only fully awake but highly talkative, leaving me to lay in bed listening to the squealing chatter of an infant finding his voice, while I desperately sought oblivion from the wood file sawing away at the dusty remains of my ashen throat, as I attempted valiantly not to cough.
It was a great night.