Just recently I was able to rid myself of the old changing table in Jensen’s room. It really was the last vestiges of his babyhood. The highchair was trashed a year ago, and I burned the diaper genie in effigy on the front lawn a while back.
Prompting yet another letter from the intrepid homeowners association.
Which I then burned.
I still hold on to the stroller, because if I use enough duct tape on him, he will actually stay in it.
Oh, I kid. Sort of.
I miss none of the baby stuff. That chapter of my life has come to an end. Good riddance.
And yet, on Saturday night I found myself wandering down the baby aisle at Publix, grumbling about the high cost of diapers. And searching for the largest size available. It seems that the Pampers Cruisers stop at size 6. Thirty five pounds and up. Well. We’ve got the “and up” part well established.
I’ve been putting Jensen into “night pull-ups” for the last year, and they no longer even come close to holding their own. As it were.
Before you hit “contact” and send me all sorts of advice, I need to explain a couple of things to you. Yes, he’s 4. Yes, he’s potty trained. But at night time, all rules fly out the window.
First of all, I put a gate up on Jensen’s door. Because I don’t want him wandering around the house at night. Remember. This is Jensen I’m talking about. And as you well know, I cannot yet trust him to be alone in the bathroom.
He still likes to flush his own head. For sport.
Also, because of his severe atopic dermatitis, we have to really slather on his pressed palm oil (Lard, to those of you who know me well) on his hands and feet before bed. Then he gets gloved and besocked in wet socks on both hands and feet. And then covered with another pair of dry socks.
So, a small 4 year old boy attempting to go to the bathroom alone can be problematic at dark thirty.
And yes, we do take him to the bathroom if he wakes up and realizes he has to go.
However, usually he wakes up too late.
And yes, we limit his water intake late in the afternoon. But unfortunately, his medicine makes him thirsty.
Out of desperation I went shopping for diapers on Saturday night.
I eyed the size 6 offering, scoffed at the price, glanced at the cheaper and more inferior diapers, and threw the premium box into my basket.
Right beside the two bottles of wine.
Which is medicinal. Just sayin’.
I did pause at the box of Depends, but opted to move on.
When I was checking out, an elderly lady was bagging my groceries. I call anyone older than I am elderly, btw. She placed the box of diapers back into my basket and asked the inevitable question, “Aww, how old is the baby?”
“He’s FOUR,” I replied, not blinking.
And the ladylike part of me squashed the really rebellious side who wanted to spout instead, “OH, THOSE ARE FOR ME.”
But then I considered the “35 pounds and up” clause printed clearly on the box and just knew that was a stretch.
The nice elderly bag lady gingerly placed the two bottles of wine into my canvas bag.
She may have wisely concluded that those were a precious commodity in my household.
And she would be correct.
“It’s only a season. It’s only a season,” I muttered all the way out to my car.