Buff

Like most toddlers, Clara likes to be naked.  It doesn't matter if we're inside or outside.  If the temperature is 60 or higher, she'd prefer to be disrobed. She has lots of ways of achieving this.  She runs away in her diaper while I'm trying to find the leggings that go with a certain shirt.  She argues that she wants to put on her own pants, then wraps them around her neck and runs off.  She arches her back and kicks her legs when I'm trying to change her.

Yesterday she got her wish, because she developed a horrendous diaper rash (She'd eaten a cupful of peas and four asparagus spears with dinner. I was so excited to see her eating veggies that I didn't think about the consequences.  Then, on a long walk, she poured her entire sippy cupful of strawberry-vegetable juice down the back of her pants in her stroller, thus marinating her bottom in fruit and veggie acid for a solid hour.  Since the front of her was completely dry, I didn't notice until it was too late, apparently).

The diaper rash was so bad, I decided to let her run free, as it were, for most of yesterday and today.  It wasn't too stressful.  Baby pee is not that offensive, and since we were outside much of the day, it didn't really matter anyway.  As for the other stuff, I just had to be super prescient and dangle her over the toilet when the signs seemed to indicate the need.

All this running wild has cleared up her diaper rash somewhat.  Unfortunately, it has also convinced her that clothes are no longer necessary, and, most especially, that diapers are no longer necessary.  I've become adept at the "running neck-hole slamdunk," where I attempt to throw her sundress over her head as she runs by.  Also, the "Hollywood stylist shuffle," where I keep apace of her on my knees and coax her hands through the armholes by telling her, in a breathy voice, how pretty she looks.