The story with the elusive moral; or, how Tommy learned to waterproof his own bum

Yestermorn, whilst I was doing laundry, dishes and making beds (i.e. catching up on blogs after mini-break in Payson), Ross yells "Mom! Do you want to come see this?"

I do want to come see that.
I've been a mom long enough to know to always answer that question in the affirmative.

While still en route to Tommy's room, I can see from the far end of the hall that Tommy has disrobed entirely, has climbed up on the changing table, removed his wet diaper, and taken a new diaper from the drawer.

He's changing his own pants.


It isn't until I enter the room, though, that I see he has also located the Desitin, and is applying it with great care and skill to his own backside.

He's doing a marvelous job. There will be no diaper rash in his immediate future, not with such thorough coverage of his nether regions.


I'm not sure what to make of this. I think there are some clear lessons, certainly. The two that first came to mind were these:

1. Do not read anything while Tommy is awake. At 2 years, 1 month, he is at the zenith of his destructive game. On the smart/destructive scale, he sits evil-eyed in the center of the graph. From here, he will only get more smart, and less destructive. Of course, there will be a period in his teens, when he first gets his driver's license, when there might be a spike of destructive, as well as a dip in smart, but that doesn't change the fact that today, he is very, very dangerous.

2. He is capable of changing his own diaper, and looking after the welfare of his own crack; ergo, he should be capable of using a toilet.

The more I think about it, I feel I am missing some more subtle lessons. I just don't know what they are. What is the moral of the story? Maybe if I squint hard, I can read between the lines:

1. My children are capable of much more than I appreciate, and I can expect more if I teach more?

2. My babies are only pretending to be helpless; when my back is turned, those sneaky babes are probably online betting on the ponies, or studying calculus by the sof glow of their fishy night light. Then they cry for a bobble, and fill their pants. I've been duped. We've all been duped.

3. I should just be happy that, although he isn't out of diapers YET, I won't have to change them anymore. Which is almost as good, but still expensive. (Really, am I willing to let him have a go with any solid waste? No.)

4. I should be thrilled that Ross actually noticed something that was going on outside of a book, the computer, or the wii.

That's all I've got. I got no more.

I'll think about it some more while I get ready for My Fair Lady over at Gammage tonight. Janie is coming along for the first time, with Jen and Mom, too. Dinner first at House of Tricks off Mill Ave.