Ryan stopped chewing, put his fork down and smacked his hand over his eyes. "Don't worry about it, it's not that big of a deal" I said. "No" he groaned "I forgot to put his jammies on."
"Did you change his diaper?"
"He's sleeping now, I'll take care of it after dinner."
"Better take a bottle up there with you. He's gonna be pissed."
After dinner Ryan went upstairs with a bottle of milk so he could wake Charlie up to get him ready for bed. He came back down moments later holding Charlie's red fleece pajamas and the full bottle and said "You know, he IS wearing sweatpants. I'm sure he'll be warm enough."
"He's had that diaper on since 3:00."
Charlie was out cold, having had a big morning in the 15-18 month nursery at church, where they get to go outside on the playground and eat Goldfish crackers sitting at a table, and then spending the afternoon looking at houses with our realtor after skipping his afternoon nap. We peered over the side of the crib. He was laying on his tummy on top of Phent. We thought it would be
I carefully removed one of his shoes and socks to test the water. It didn't phase him.
Socks are a piece of cake though. While Ryan pulled the ankles of the pants, I carefully slid the waist down, being careful not to jostle him too much. He stirred briefly, but I gave him a pacifier and he reached down to hold Phent's ear and went back to sleep.
I shrugged. "You never wake up when I take your pants off at night either." (which is a JOKE Grandma, Grandma, and Mom)
But the really complicated part was yet to come. It takes two people to change a diaper on a sleeping baby, especially when he is laying on his belly.
(And the temptation to take pictures when, once you have the diaper off, the baby briefly wakes up and then resettles in the (bare) bottom-up position, is quite overwhelming)
After letting him sleep au natural for a minute so we could compose ourselves (and while we briefly lost sight of the important function of a diaper and the absolute not-fun-ness of changing crib sheets in the middle of the night) , I lifted Charlie's legs up gently so Ryan could put the diaper on, Ninja style, using one hand to slide the clean diaper into place and the other hand to fasten the tabs against Charlie's belly. Without looking. In the dark.
Ryan slid Charlie's pants back on without incident. I grabbed a sock and slid it onto Charlie's foot with military precision. When Ryan tried to do the same thing he grazed the sole of Charlie's foot, which I guess tickled because he started waving that foot around while Ryan tried to line up the sock and I hissed "One smooth motion! One smooth motion!!" I am helpful.
He never woke up, like really woke up more than a soft wimper, to wonder what the heck we thought we were doing and where on earth were his pants. In about twenty years, when he wakes up in a Spring Break hotel room in an oddly similar state of being, maybe he will think of Ryan and me carefully changing his diaper in the dark so we wouldn't have to disturb him.
We should probably start saving for his therapy now.