It is with a heavy heart that I announce Elijah no longer wears diapers. Not even at night. He’s completely dry every night. And it saddens me.
Not because it’s yet another sign my baby is growing up and will eventually leave me forever. It’s because wet pants/shorts/couches/beds/floors/church pews/airline seats were such an easy blog story. If it was a slow week for embarrassment, I could always wring out a story about Eli soaking something. But now it’s all dried up. I’m here all week.
I’m not sure when he made the transition to no diapers officially. I think it was when Diana offered him $1 for every night he went without wetting the bed. I think we’ve racked up a few hundred dollars in pee pee fees. But like his college tuition, we aren’t going to pay up a dime.
I’ll admit, I miss it. The smell. The coldness. The wetness.
But we still have Luca, who is still good for a wet diaper a few nights a week. But a wet diaper makes Luca an angry, angry boy. The other night, he came storming into our room and began shouting at Diana, “Change my diaper! Change my diaper!”
While I pretended to sleep, he continued shouting at her, “This is all your fault! YOU made me have a wet diaper!”
When Diana tried to explain that if he went pee pee before he went to bed instead of drinking a gallon of water before going to bed, he wouldn’t have this problem.
He shouted, “Idiot!”
I laughed into my pillow so as not to encourage him. But really? Idiot? Who calls people idiots? Let alone call their mom an idiot?
I hope we’ll have at least a few more pee stories before this is all over.