The Lining, The S*!t and The Wardrobe

I’ve been toying with whether I would blog this one. I mean, River will one day grow up and read all that I’ve been writing and I guess only approve of 10 percent of it. This definitely falls in the “What were you thinking Mum?! My life is ruined when my friends see this” category but I lost a pair of shoes because of this story so I think alls fair in love and war.

River’s latest trick is to remove his nappy. He proudly rips open the tabs one by one and sashays out of it in such a style that would make Ru Paul proud, squealing with delight as his nether regions are met with a breeze as he runs around the house butt naked. It’s got to the point where I’m keeping trousers on him right up until bed time purely as a nappy garter. I used to remove all clothing before tea time but honestly I’d rather wash Peppa Pig spaghetti out of baby chinos than deal with loose boy bits and free whizzing.

Earlier in the week it was near enough bath time and we were all upstairs awaiting the temperature duck on the water to stop beeping to confirm optimum temperature for a baby bottom to splash in. You’d think after a year I’d have got the hang of just knowing but bath temperature is not something I’m going to waste my time learning when I’m already spinning plates on a unicycle that’s on fire. I have a gadget and I’m going to use it until it’s battery runs out. I digress.

So we were in the bedroom and River likes to play peek-a-boo in the built in wardrobes, the doors slide right along the room so it’s a fun game for him and it gives us 5 minutes to put away the megabloks/ check on the damn beeping duck. I saw River going in the wardrobe and messing with his favourite adult toy, the hoover, and then walking out like Woody from Toy Story.

He had a huge grin on his face and I thought “Oh bless him, he’s excited for his bath” which was a relief because he’s not been feeling great recently and bath time has been somewhat of a challenge. (I’ve definitely not karate chopped his legs to get him to sit down as he wailed covered in no tears shampoo.)

Only… there was something not quite right. He was rubbing the backs of his legs. The backs of his legs had something on the- oh my god it was poo. He’d had a nappy-less poo and it was all down the backs of his legs. He pulled his hand back round and inspected it. Everything was in slow motion, I saw him pull his hand closer to his mouth and the tell tale slight stick out of tongue that told me he was going to try and taste it. I leapt over the bed and managed to grab his arm and stop disaster. The sudden movement startled him and he struggled, slipping everywhere. As I wrestled him down to the ground for damage limitation I saw the extent of what had occurred.

He’d done it in the wardrobe.

It lined the wardrobe floor voluminously, a quantity I didn’t know one little giant could produce. In, on and under my shoes. On the hoover. On the carpet. On a belt. On the doors. On the baby. On the mum.

A WHOLE PACKET OF WIPES LATER. I was beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel and I learned a very important lesson about how quickly a shit storm can hit once the nappy has come off.