I’m making an application to the Olympic Committee for a new sport to be allowed in next year’s Games – Extreme Nappy Changing!
The rules are pretty simple; the mummy or daddy needs to replace the nappy with a new one, fasten it correctly, and dress the baby before the little one escapes. The baby wins extra points for splattering nappy contents over clothes, the change mat, or the parent! Points will be awarded for style. Mummy or Daddy score points racing the clock. Naturally, I’m lining myself up as a future champ.
Non-mobile babies make things pretty easy for the grown-up changing them. They lie there patiently, cooing a little, and gazing round the room or into their parent’s loving eyes. How much more fun to be had by rolling away! Not just from the prospect of grossness spread everywhere, but also the added danger of a bit of height. At least once a day at the moment I have Mummy or Daddy yelling for help as they run out of hands. “This one’s a Two-Man Job!”
Let the fun begin! I start yelling as soon I know I’m heading for the change mat. It makes the Changer a little stressed before you even start. Wears them down a bit. As with many things, timing is everything. I make my move as soon as my nappy’s undone. Mummy has my feet in one hand and is reaching for wipes with the other. Wriggle then, and she’s faced with the dilemma of how to stop dirty bottom and clean clothes from meeting, whilst trying to wipe, fold and replace with just the one hand. And she must prevent me from diving off the change table.
She’s not dextrous enough to have perfected the one-handed nappy-fasten yet, so the advantage is mine. Strange, as mummies seem to be able to do most thing single-handedly!
If I kick and struggle, I usually wait till she has a handful of nappy-rash cream. No chance. “HELP! TWO-MAN JOB!” If she drops her guard for a second, I have cream on my face, in my hair, between my toes – everywhere except the nappy rash. Great sport!
Are there any tactics she could employ to win this game? Well, possibly.
Make sure there is something by way of a distraction. The very nature of a distraction is such that I forget the game. I reserve the right for the ‘thing’ to change regularly, with or without prior notice. A toy is so dull when I know she has nappy sacks and creams on the loose.
Be prepared. Have everything ready before we start. Now I’m mobile, she has one chance to get it right before she has a naked baby streaking around the house shrieking with laughter.
Keep the crucial nappy-change items out of my reach. The sock or cuddly toy she gives me to play with has nothing on a tube of cream – what happens if I squeeze this?
Work quickly. Even if I humour the nappy change to start with, my patience and concentration are limited.
One your marks, get set, go!