It's Reagan's 17 month birthday today. I was in the kitchen ATTEMPTING to clean when I heard crying from Reagan's room. It wasn't Reagan. It was Quinn. Reagan was rolling around on the floor, bare butted, and Colby was chasing her with a diaper. There were little hard turds all over the floor.
Mom: "WHAT is going on here?"
Colby: "Quinn's sad because I'M earning a dollar."
Mom: "Really? How?"
Colby: "Dad said that if I learned how to change Reagan's diaper, I'd get a dollar."
Great. Reagan was having none of it. She was squirming, screaming and wiggling, and making life thoroughly difficult for her brother.
Colby: "Mom, you've got to help me!"
Mom: "Not if you want to earn that dollar. You've got to do it all by yourself."
He EARNED that money, let me tell you. Threw the old diaper away, pinned Reagan to the ground, got the new one on (kind of), and then had to put on her pants - which I assure you is no easy task. Reagan tried to bite him several times. I just laughed. Quinn cried the entire time.
Afterwards, Quinn and I had a talk.
Mom: "Quinn, do you think that Reagan will suddenly STOP pooping?"
Quinn sniffled and shook his head no.
Mom: "Do you think that she'll suddenly start using the toilet all by herself?"
Again, he shook his head no.
Mom: "Do you think that maybe, just MAYBE, she will conviently poop another diaper in the very, very near future, and you will be the lucky one who gejs to change it next time?"
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