Picture this...it's 3:30 in the morning. Preston has been up for nearly ten hours, of which the last four have been a game of Who Can Stay Awake the Longest? and my son was not about to lose. The problem is he's over-tired and doesn't have the mental capacity to stop crying, shut his eyes, and fall asleep. As the clock ticks away, so does my patience. I'm on the verge of heating up the car and taking him for a drive, when he FINALLY cuts me a break.
I'm sitting on the couch and Preston is lying vertically on my torso. His tiny head is tucked gently under my chin and his feet are curled up under his belly. YES! It won't be long now until we both can get some sleep.
As I wait patiently for the right time to pick him up and put him in his bouncy chair I can't help but notice what is quickly becoming an overwhelming unpleasant scent. Damnnit – I think Preston has dropped a brown bomb. Now I'm going to have to change his diaper which will undoubtedly wake him and who knows how long it will take to get him to doze off again.
I didn't want to risk being wrong though. I didn't want to risk what could potentially become 2-3 hours of slumber by stripping him down to check his diaper only to find nothing, and that he was just passing some horrific gas.
My only option was to try out the ol' poke-n-pull, and I had to do it slowly and gently. So, I take my right index finger and find my way between two snaps in Preston's sleeper. From there I navigate under the onesie until I hit the ruffled edge of his diaper. Okay, here goes, I'm going in.
I fearlessly poke my finger between Preston's bottom and diaper into the great unknown. This seemed, at the time, a great idea. I didn't even think about what I'd do if my finger happened to land smack in the middle of a mud pie. Pulling my dirty finger out would just smear the poo onto Preston's legs and clothes, which would then cause an entire wardrobe change and an extensive wipe cleansing.
As it turns out, Preston had just thrown a couple air biscuits my way. And although creative, I can hardly believe I checked his diaper by sticking my finger in it. Perhaps this was a test of my problem-solving skills and motherhood. If so, I passed.