If Baby Could Talk – Changing Table Conversations

“Good morning baby,” I said with a big smile.  “Is that my happy boy?  Are you my happy boy?”  Baby was lying on his stomach, pushing himself up with his arms and smiling wide.  Every time I addressed him he giggled.  I lifted him out of the crib and gave him a big, squeaky kiss on his cheek before setting him down on the changing table. 

“Good morning Momma,” He said before releasing a quiet giggle.

“Was that a bashful smile?” I asked.  Baby giggled several times and then curled his legs and grabbed both of his feet. “Okay Baby, let Momma get your jammies off so we can change your diaper.” 

“Okay Momma,” he said.

I unzipped them and pulled his legs out one at a time. Then I lifted up his legs and tucked his jammies underneath him.  The pajama legs dangled out underneath his left side.  He grabbed one of them and shoved it into his mouth.  “What are you doing with your jammies, baby?”

“It goes in the mouth,” he said.

“Oh. Of course it does,” I said. “That was a silly question for Momma to ask.”  Baby smiled big and giggled again.

“Are you smiling at your silly Momma?”

He giggled. “Yes. Momma silly.”

I removed his fully loaded cloth diaper and set it aside. Then I reached down and grabbed clean one from underneath the changing table.  When I popped my head back up I saw Baby grabbing for his dirty diaper.  “No, No.” I said. “That’s not for you.”  I pulled it away from him and moved it to the far end of the changing table.

“It goes in the mouth,” he said.

“Yucky,” I said . “That’s a dirty diaper. That doesn’t go in your mouth.” I set the clean diaper down onto his stomach. “Here, hold this.” 

Baby grabbed the diaper and pulled it toward his mouth.  “It goes in the mouth.”

“Sure, fine,” I said. “At least that one is clean.”

“Are you finished yet?”  Gwennie was sitting impatiently on the floor, whipping her tail back and forth to signal that she was in a most impatient mood this morning.  “I mean, really.  This conversation you’re having is most enlightening.  When you’re done talking to his butt would like to have a conversation with mine?”

“Gwennie!” I scolded as I zipped up the baby’s jammies and lifted him off the table. “Must you be so crude?  I thought we agreed to keep this blog posting PG.”

Gwennie nodded and cocked her head to one side. “We did.  That’s why I said butt instead of anus.”

Oh for the love of Cheerios!

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