The other day, I had a moment where I felt quite proud that I outsmarted someone. A baby. My eight month old baby. I know, I can see the look on your faces now...
The weather's been like the surface of the sun as of late so Addie is naked most of the time. Very cute, but problematic since she's figured out how easily she can rip the tabs off her diapers. Rii-ip. Stick 'em back on. Rip. Rip. (evil giggle) Back on. It's become a futile game we play.
When I was worried enough she would pee on our bed again, I finally grabbed a pair of dirty shorts crumpled on the floor and shoved them on her. Ha! Take THAT, baby! I thought triumphantly. She kept clawing at herself for a minute, figured the game was over, shrugged her chubby little shoulders like she was going, "meh, whatever gets you off, crazy lady," and tried to roll off the bed.
Small victories...
"You may have won this battle, but you will not win the war!"
(also, she's not in floating in purgatory, our bedsheets are black.)
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