Worst. Nappy Change. Ever.

You’d think the seventh child would be easier, yeah?

“I think she needs a nappy changed,” Tracey told me on Sunday morning as Miss2 waddled by with a nappy so full it was bobbing along between her knees like a bee’s stinger. It was full in the same way the Titanic has taken on a little water.

“You saw it first,” I said.

“You should have seen it first,” Tracey countered.

She was right. I’d been up for an hour letting her have a well deserved sleep in and I hadn’t changed the nappy yet.

I picked up Miss2 and took her into the lounge room, lying her on the floor and kneeling. Thankfully, she’d only done a number one. The reason why I’m  now so thankful about that will become evident in a moment.

I went to undo the nappy tags.

“I do it!” she said, slapping my hands away, standing up in front of me and clawing at the nappy.

 She got purchase on one tag and tore it off, and the whole nappy dropped by two inches. It was only saved from falling all the way to the floor because the  other side of the nappy snagged on her left hip.

“Now the other side,” I encouraged her, because I feel, hell, anything these kids can do without my input is to be vigorously encouraged.

Now she had two hands working feverishly on the one remaining secure tape.

What happened next I can describe in some detail because it played out in slow mode.

There was a riiiiip sound as the second tag surrendered to Miss2’s will.

As she triumphantly held the defeated tag out to her side, the overfull nappy swung back between her legs, pendulum-like, and then swung up and around her side and…

…smacked me square in the face. Hard. On the mouth. Wet side first. 

And as I spluttered and gagged my way to the bathroom to soak my head in Dettol, the only positive thing I could think of was how much shittier my morning could have been if she’d done anything other than a wee.


(it really does help)

“Raising a family on little more than laughs”


  • If it helps when my daughter was 2 and in the process of toilet training she ran into our room early morning when we were still asleep throwing her poopy nappy at my husband who just awoke in time as she goes “daddy bum”

  • Uggh, nasty.Just yuck.
    Not very eloquent but I don’t know what else to say other than it gives new meaning to the need to wash your mouth out with soap.

  • That is hilarious! I pictured it exactly as your comment to Rachel Attwood! I love the fact that you tell it as it is Bruce. After having 4 kids of my own and now fostering, I know exactly how you feel.

    • No. You’re just the only one rude enough to write it 😉 It’s not a race. All in their own time. She’s doing just fine.

      • Good reply Bruce! I was about to say, each child needs to do this at their own pace. Rushing it causes so many problems! Your girl will get there when she gets there 🙂

  • Not sure why it was labelled rude, or where the “race” was mentioned, but please accept my apologies for it.

    What I am trying to say though is the following: I find it totally unacceptable for myself to walk in my own pee for even a minute. Why would I make my toddler do it?

    I may sound like a prude, and I probably am, objectively, one.

    From my pre-disposable nappies experience, young toddlers are perfectly toilet trainable. Yes, I am one of those… 🙂 dinosaurs.

    Now, rant aside, it is a hilarious story, amazingly narrated, and preaching “elimination communication” (shudder – I find the term repulsive) is well out of place here. That much I get 🙂

    • No worries. We don’t push our kids. We let them work it out. Sometimes it’s quick, sometimes it’s not, sometimes they go backwards. Always enjoyable when they get there though 😀

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