For those of you who aren’t interested in such anecdotes, I’ve done you the favour of leaving it after the jump.
Bernard awakes from his afternoon nap of 3.5 hours. It has been 7 hours since his last nappy change, so we figure that’s a good place to start. I bring in a clean changing mat cover from the washing line, and set up the changing station in the bathroom. The station consists of [the mat], with a cotton cover, and a muslin square on top. Necessary apparatus is arranged around.
[the mat]: http://www.thewhitecompany.com/department2.aspx?DepGrpCode=&DepCode=MPCO
Karen brings Bernard in and places him on the mat. We open the nappy. It contains a small quantity of solids and is generously wet. The nappy is retired to the appropriate bag, and I wipe the little guy’s arse etc. I pass Bernard to Karen to have vaseline applied to his bum. Suddenly disaster strikes, and a torrent of baby poo gushes forth.
Karen and I retain our composure. We fold the muslin over a few times so that he isn’t wading in his own filth, and I reclean his bum. I turn him so that his arse is pointing towards Karen, and she prepares, for the second time, to apply the vaseline.
“Don’t do it right now…” she prays.
God laughs uproariously, flicks his cigarette butt out of the window and snorts another line of coke. He presses the button on his console marked “Baby Poo” and another portion bubbles out.
Karen and I collapse into helpless laughter, completely unable to prevent Bernard from wiping his feet through his own puddle of mustard. We leave him to it for a while and then fill his wee ((as in, little)) bath.
The remainder of the nappy change proceeds without incident. Changing mat cover and muslin square are thrown into the washing machine on “rinse”.
Perhaps the title for this post should have been “I see a white sheet, and I want to stain it yellow.”