Winning the Gold in Diaper Changes...

Reagan is a paradox to me in so many ways.

She can sit perfectly still for entire minutes on end while we read a book or put together her beloved blocks or feed baby a bottle. She concentrates. She breathes deeply and focuses her entire being on the task at hand.

Ask her to be still for one, single diaper change and it's as though I asked her to recite the Gettysburg Address. She. Cannot. Do. It.

She wiggles and giggles and reaches for the icky diaper. She pulls off her socks despite my desperate pleas for the opposite. She squirms till her noggin hangs off the dresser. She kicks and waves her arms around and strains her neck and twists this way and that. It's like she can hear disco music in her head and when ya gotta dance, ya gotta dance.

I've tried everything. I sing to her. I let her hold various toys and/or items from the diaper changing cubbies (which completely destroys their organized placement, I might add). I make funny noises and cross my eyes. My attempts to distract and occupy her attention are in vain.

By this time I'm sweating and my heart rate is certainly higher than normal. I hear voices in my head. One of them says, "diapering should be a recognized Olympic event" and the other one asks, "how long can she go in one diaper anyway?"

Reagan hears voices, too. "Make Mommy insane. Try to push her over the edge so she completely cracks and puts the diaper on herself instead of me."

Remember how in the beginning, Danny and I fought over who got to change her diaper? Well, that's not the case now. Now I advertise with a great big sign in the front lawn--"will pay top dollar for diaper changing services."

So far no one has taken me up on this and I think it's because they've all heard about Reagan's wiggling antics and they know they don't have what it takes to pin her down, rip off the offensive diaper, wipe whatever they can and smack on the new diaper before she wiggles her way off the dresser and on to the floor.

Speaking of the floor, people have told me to change her diaper there but this is an even more frightening venture. On the floor, Reagan is fearless. She flips over on to her stomach like a break-dancer from the '80s. She scoots away very quickly and is up on her feet, now running diaperless across the room before I have time to realize what's even happened. She's laughing her "prison break" laugh and if the door isn't shut, she's down the hall in a flash.

Do you think it's too early to potty train her?