Wrestlemania

He scampers to the mat, and looks back at his opponent, laughter in his eyes. She lunges and he deftly moves to avoid her grasp, crawling away on all fours. But wait! She's got him by the ankles, dragging him back to the center of the action. He wriggles and manages to free himself, delivering a blow to the chest as he rolls over. And yet, she pins him to the mat with her elbow and desperately tries to control his lower body. It's a blur of flailing legs, tousled hair and frantic hands. Finally, one of them emerges victorious! Round one is over.

WWF? WWE? No, it's The Toddler vs. Super Mom in the daily rematch of Diaper Time.

The first change of the morning actually went like that today. While I had prepared to do it on his changing table, he pushed out of my arms once naked and darted to the yoga mat in the living room. There, he sat down as if he had decided this would be a much better place for such actions to occur. Ok by me. If he wants to pick a place to make it better for him, I'm fine. But no, it was a challenge. As soon as I got close, game on.

What the hell? Why does G-man put up such a fight? Seriously, if he'd just sit still, it would go a lot faster. After all, I always win. It's pretty non-negotiable.

I was reading about this on mamapedia recently. While it's nice to know I'm not alone, I feel like I've already tried so many of the suggestions to no avail. 

I have tried to make things more interesting and/or pleasant for him. Special toys on the table (sometimes even the real phone!), a pillow for his head, silly songs and games. How about different locations? The floor of his room, the bed in my room, while he looks out the window, even on the sofa. Different positions? Standing up, on his tummy, as he tries to walk away. 

My li'l man's naked butt has really been around. Where has G-man done the diaper dance? In his infant carrier on the desk of a car salesperson; the floor of an Indian restaurant; in his stroller at the park (and among other places); under the canopy at the pool; in the beach cabana; on a blanket in the backyard; and on a countertop at Scott's office. 

Yet even with distractions of sights, sounds and environment, no matter what, most of the transformations from wet & dirty to dry & clean result in screaming, thrashing and general unpleasantness.

I feel like duct taping his entire body down just to get things done.

One the bright side, I know that eventually, he'll outgrow it. Either he'll move on to resisting me on potty training (great) or just realize that having the diaper changed isn't as bad as sitting around in the damp and/or yuck.

Until then, G-man, you think you can outlast me, but unless I proclaim official naked time, that diaper is going on, buster.