Please forgive me, for I have been a bad mother. Or at the very least a mother who literally has not had three minutes in her day to tend to the bottom of her youngest child. And now he stands before me, a living, breathing chastisement, wearing what has to be the world's biggest, soggiest Huggie dangling between his legs, clinging onto his hips with the tiniest possible remaining piece of adhesive tab. Experience tells me this puppy's gonna blow any second, and only You know how bad it could be underneath. Please, God, I already feel so guilty, please no hideous diaper rash already blooming, lease no you-know-what so caked-on that it requires a full-body bath, please not that thing where the sinister-looking crystals explode out of the diaper all over his skin, the changing table, and my forearms. I promise to be better, Lord. I promise to find time in our day to take care of my littlest guy's heinie. Just please don't let this diaper be as bad as it looks from here. Thank you, Lord.
Amen
Maybe when that happens again you should treat it like you would a can of pop that you shook up. All of your moves must be slow and point the exit point away from you and maybe perform the whole operation over the tub. Another choice would be to take something and puncture the diaper to let the pressure release slowly before beginning the harrowing operation. Last resort... call in the spouse and announce training time. :)
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