You Should Probably Not Even Read This.

Saturday - a BEAUTIFUL, sunny, warmish day in Mt. Shasta.  Reece is at the ski park patrolling today, and Reaghan and I decided to go up for a few hours to take photos of the Big Air Competition.  More on that later (when I get a chance to go through the hundreds of pictures that I took).

This post is about something much more...ummm...eventful?  interesting?  disgusting?  yes, disgusting is the right term.

Please stop reading if you have a weak stomach.  Fortunately,  I suppose I don't.

Girl or boy, I would guess that every parent has experienced getting "messed" on at the changing table.  With girls it tends to be a little easier and less frequent (at least that's my experience with Reaghan vs. my youngest brother).  The first time Reaghan surprised me I was thankful that she isn't capable of making a huge mess everywhere - just on the changing pad which is easily washed - or so I thought.

The story begins with our drive home.  After getting Reaghan all buckled in and starting to leave the parking lot, I hear a sound in the backseat that only means one thing - time for a "big job".  I figured that since home was only 20 minutes away, it would be easier to deal with it there rather than in the car.  So we talked and sang our way home.  Reaghan was delighted to get home and onto the changing table (one of her favorite places in the house); we dealt with the "big job" and it wasn't too bad.  Yes, she needed a new outfit, and yes, the pad had to go into the wash, but that's a regular thing with these big jobs, no problem (someday I will design a diaper than can keep it all in). 

Freshly changed and in a warm outfit, it was time for lunch.  She ate her fill and suddenly....that sound again.  Another big job.  Back to the changing table.  This time it was even more fun!  Giggles, and smiles galore.  She was telling me all about how....well, at this point I thought it was about how glad she was to be getting changed again.  It was a little messy, but not as bad as the first (she only needed a new onesie, not a whole new outfit). 

Just as I got the yucky diaper off and was cleaning and preparing her for the "fresh pants"...she squealed...it was too late.  Surely her communications earlier were an attempt to tell me she wasn't finished and that I should leave the dirty diaper in place. 

The result?  Do you even want to know?  Can I simply state that my little girl can push?  Yeah, not only did I have to clean her, but I had to clean myself (my rings are still soaking), the end of the changing table, a large portion of carpet, the wall across from the changing table, and you can just assume how thrilled Daddy is going to be when he comes home and finds out that we need to pull off the baseboards in one section to clean down there, too!  I need to put a new bottle of carpet cleaner on the shopping list.

Boys, you've got nothin' on Miss Reaghan!