12:45 am – I wake to the sound of whimpering coming from the nursery. I go in and see Andrew curled up tightly and pressed against the far end of the crib, trying hard to stay asleep. As my eyes adjust, I realize that he is completely naked from the waist down. Then I notice the pajama pants and diaper discarded on the floor, and surmise that he took them off earlier in the night. I go to pick him up and find that his pajama shirt is soaking wet, and he is lying in a puddle of pee that has drenched his sheet and mattress pad. No wonder he is cold. I take him out, put on a fresh diaper and warm pjs, and change his sheets. As I put him back to bed, I whisper “That’s why we leave our diapie on, Andrew.” “Yeah,” he whispers back. “Don’t take your diapie off, okay?” “Okay,” he whispers back. And back to sleep he goes.
7:45 am – Andrew has been up for 45 minutes. He has had his breakfast, and he is playing in his room with the big kids. The big kids come running in to report that Andrew has taken his diaper off again. Damien goes into the room and finds Andrew standing in his crib, buck naked. Damien says, “Andrew, you leave your diaper on.” “Oh.” The day begins.
8:45 am – The kids go out to play in the snow. Andrew can’t wait, and happily puts all of his snow gear on to join them. Out the door he goes.
8:48 am – A very sad voice is calling “Mommy…” repeatedly from just outside the door. I open it to find Andrew, who says “Mommy…hands cold!” He holds up his bare hands for me to see. They are icy and red from the snow. I look over his shoulder and spot his mittens, discarded on a patio chair. “Andrew, you have to keep your mittens on. They keep your hands warm! Do you want me to get you another pair of mittens?” “No!” “Do you want to come inside?” “Yes!” “Are you all done playing in the snow?” “Yes!” And so the snow day ends.
9:00 am – Andrew asks for a snack. I tell him it’s not snack time, and he will have to wait.
9:23 am – Andrew finds me at my desk and proclaims “Fishies!” while holding a bowl of goldfish crackers. Somehow he has gotten into the high-up snack cupboard, snagged a bowl of goldfish, removed the lid from it, and is now snacking away. “Andrew, you have to ask me before you have a snack!” “Fishies please!” He exudes innocence. Sigh. “Okay, Andrew. You can have the fishies.”
11:30 am – I am cruising through the Fred Meyer with Andrew in a cart and two big kids in tow. Mid-produce section, Andrew says “Cracker, Mommy!” He knows I keep an emergency supply of crackers in my diaper bag for hungry and squeaky children. “Just a minute, Andrew,” I say, wanting to first clear the crowded produce section. As I turn out of the produce section and into the relative safety of the cereal aisle, Sophie says, “Uh, Mommy…” with laughter in her voice. I turn to find that Andrew has reached his ridiculously long arms over the back of the cart seat, opened the flap on my diaper bag (hadn’t I buckled it? I thought I had…), pulled out the bin of crackers and helped himself to a cracker, scattering the bin and the remaining crackers around the cart. He looks very pleased with himself.
12:30 pm – I am having lunch with the kids. “Mommy, look at me!” I look at Andrew, who is holding a piece of salami over the bottom half of his face, and grinning with his eyes. “No, Andrew, we don’t play with our food. We eat it.” “Eat it?” “Yes, eat it.”
12:32 pm – “Spit it out!” Andrew announces as he happily spits out the apple that he has just chewed up. “No Andrew, we don’t spit it out, we eat it.” “Eat it?” “Yes, eat it.”
12:34 pm – “More apple!” “No, that’s all the apple.”
12:36:00 pm – “Mommy, look at me!” Andrew now has a piece of salami smack on the top of his head. “No, Andrew, we don’t put salami on our heads. It is for eating.” “Eating.” “Yes. If you put it on your head again, I will take it away.” “Okay.” A pause, as he rips the salami in two and generously offers me a piece. “Here Mommy!” Yum…salami from the top of his head. “No thanks, Andrew. It’s for you.” “Okay!”
12:36:35 pm – A chunk of bread goes flying across the table at Ben. I declare the meal over, and clear his plate to the sad wails of “No! STILL EATING!” He is always “still eating.”
1:15 pm – I put Andrew down to nap, after first changing him into a onesie that snaps securely around his diaper. I hope for the best.
4:30 pm – Andrew is still napping. He is exhausted from his middle-of-the-night exploits. I notice the open bowl of goldfish on my desk, untouched since the moment I told Andrew that he was allowed to eat them.
4:33 pm – Andrew wakes up. Because I just typed that he was sleeping. At least he is fully clothed.
5:00 pm – I am starting dinner. I thought Andrew was playing cars with his brother, but then Sophie comes into the kitchen, giggling, to report that he is pulling wipes out of their container. This is a favorite game, climbing onto his changing table and pulling baby wipes out. I go to his room, step over the wipes strewn on the floor, and find Andrew holding a wipe over his foot. “Put in toes!” “What’s in your toes?” He removes the wipe, stretches his foot, and contemplates his toes. “Uh…foot in toes!” “There’s a foot in your toes?” “Yeah!” “Okay. No more wipes.” I set him down on the floor. “Okay!”
5:30 pm – Andrew comes in the kitchen. “Mommy, I go bounce house.” “You want to go to the Bounce House?” (He went a month or two ago.) “Yeah. I like slide.” “You like to go on the slide there?” “Yeah. And ladder.” “You like the ladder?” “Yeah. And upstairs.” Then he transitions directly into singing the ABC song.
6:40 pm – I am helping Sophie decorate cupcakes using her new icing kit. Andrew is sitting in his highchair, ripping up the box the kit came in. As I walk by, he is putting the box over his head and saying “Hello? I talking to you! I talking to you!” At first I thought he was speaking to me, but then I realized his conversation was with the box. It continued. “Hello? I talking to you! I like chicken nuggets! I like chicken nuggets! CHICKEN NUGGETS!” And then an abrupt “Goodbye!” Moments later he has thrown the box pieces to the floor. He sits in the highchair shrieking. I ask if he is ready to get down. “No! Still eating!” There is no food whatsoever on his tray. And we did not have chicken nuggets for dinner.
7:06 pm – I walk by the bathroom, where Andrew has finished his bath and is waiting for all of the water to drain before he gets out of the tub. He is staring at the drain and repeating: “Water, come back! COME BACK!” His voice is so commanding, I think the water just might obey.
7:40 pm – Andrew comes by to say goodnight, riding on his daddy’s back. “Goodnight, Mommy!” “Goodnight, Andrew.” “I riding a back!” “Yes, you are!” “Whee!” The day is done. At least until such time as he wakes pantsless, and a new day begins.
