Two Male Toddlers Are Interesting....

Oh good gawd.

Yesterday was strange things to do with your diaper area day for the little two boys I watch.

Separate incidents. Both with that end of the body.
What is it with male children that they *have* to play with themselves?

I put the younger one down for a nap. About 20 minutes later I hear him crying so I go in to see what is wrong. He starts sobbing:

"I pooped, I pooped!"

"You pooped. Is that why you are crying?"

"I pooped Wobyn." Sob, sniffle, sob.

By this time I had made it to the crib, and noticed something was off.

His diaper.

His diaper was off. So not good. I am already gagging inside my head with the thought of:

"Oh good gawd, he did a poopy Picasso. Oh I will hurl. I did not sign up for this. For the love of everything that is holy, let there be no poop."

I ask, calmly, mostly because I am frightened by the looming specter of the poopy Picasso,

"You pooped?"

"Yesssssss." Sob, sniffle, sob.

I look around in the crib before moving the wayward diaper child.

I see no poop.

Only pee. I am doing the dance of happiness in my head, whilst trying to keep the straight face.

"Honey let's get you out of there. Look you didn't poop. You just peed on yourself. It'll be ok. We'll get you cleaned up."

He stops sobbing. Gives me a big smile, and says:

"Ok, Wobyn."

So I clean said wee wee, out of the crib. Pull out the sheets that have been whizzed on, and take off the tinkled on clothing, and get him in new clothes.

And diaper.

This time though, I put his diaper on him backwards so he can't reach the tabs. Then I get a onesie, which I put him in, backwards, so the snaps are at his butt. Make the crib back up with clean sheets and blankies, and put him back with the warning of:

"We don't play with our diapers. If you don't want to wear diapers, we have to learn to go in the potty, ok?"

"Ok Wobyn."

Diaper area crisis one, over with!

Later, the older boy comes over to me, with this stricken look on his face. I thought perhaps he was in pain, or had hurt himself.

"What is wrong honey?"

"My butt hurts. It won't go down."

Of course he is patting his front. So just to be clear I ask him:

"Your butt won't go down?"

"Yeah, my butt won't go down." Pat, pat, pat.

Trying my hardest not to laugh, because he is obviously confused as to what is going on, I start to explain, in toddler terms what he is experiencing.

"Um, Mo, that is your, um penis. That isn't your butt honey."

"It's my peeenissss?"

"Yeah." Oh god, how to explain a woody to a two year old.

"Mo, is it sticking up?" I really don't want to know. Oh how I do not want to know.

"Yeah, right here."

"Well, um, it will go away soon, and you will be fine. Nothing to worry about, ok?"

"Ok." Smile, smile. Eye flutter.

Oh good gawd. I had so totally forgotten that boys will crack a fat just because the wind was blowing.

It was just such a bizarre diaper area day yesterday. Hold me. I think I may be traumatized.

*Gulp*