When my oldest daughter was just 20 months old, she was allergic to everything under the sun. Unfortunatly, I realized after months and months of severe diaper rashes, that she was allergic to disposable diapers, so we reverted to old-school cloth diapers. That’s not even the scary part. (and for those of you have never cloth diapered and are imagining folding white cloths and using sharp pins, rest assured cloth diapering in the 21st Century is SO easy – it’s really not as scary as you might suspect…). Well, one day, I got her out of bed and after changing a sopping wet diaper and stripping her down, I realized that all of her cloth diapers were downstairs, folded on top of the washing machine.


So, I took her downstairs in her birthday suit, planning to diaper on the couch. We made it downstairs and low and behold, there were the diapers, neatly folded and clean, reinforcing the felling that yes, I AM an accomplished, competent, organized mother. A mom who took the time to fold each diaper neatly, stacking them in a way that acquiesced my OCD.

I realized in sudden terror that I had left the poop papers upstairs.


*author’s note: let me explain the necessity of poop papers. {This is where is starts to get PG} Poop Papers, as they are affectionately termed in our home, are little soft paper inserts that look like toilet paper. You lay them in the cloth diaper and then when Jr. does his business, you can flush it away in the toilet without having to scrub #2 out of the cloth. They are MANDATORY for squeamish moms.

So here I am with a naked, wriggly toddler and I realize that the beloved poop papers are upstairs and there’s no way I’m willing to risk going without. So, knowing that she’s just had a sopping wet diaper, there’s nothing left in her, I was momentarily struck with insanity and told myself that there’s no harm in leaving her naked downstairs for the 9.4 seconds it will take me to go upstairs, grap the poop papers, and come down. {You can see where this is going….} So, being a naive first time mom of an ornery toddler, I turn on Elmo’s World, plop her in front of the TV and sprint up the stairs, grab the poop papers, and come running downstairs.


As I reach the bottom step, said toddler with her dainty brown curls and gorgeous green eyes is standing at our back door, in all her glory, with her hands over her head, waving her chubby little fingers. She looks at me and says in her deepest grovely voice, trying to accentuate the severity of what she is about to say, “MOMMY! BIG POOPY!!”

[i pause, not wanting to contemplate the full meaning of this statement…]

so again she says: “BIIIIGGG POOPY”.


In less than 10 seconds, she had left her perch infront of the TV watching Elmo, had run to the front door, done her business, and had time to run to the back door, before I came down the stairs.

it was premeditated.

and she was right. it was a BIIIIGGG POOPY.

moral of the story: never leave your changing table sans diapers,  and never, under any circumstances, trust a naked toddler.

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