Look at that face. Is that not a face of complete contentment? If you knew that just minutes before this picture was taken she had let loose a series of very loud and very wet toots, would you not think that this face then signifies ultimate satisfaction in the completion of all gaseous transactions? That's certainly how I interpreted it.
I gave it a few more minutes to be safe. All was quiet. Alright then, time to assess the damage. I peeled back a corner of the diaper and confirmed I was dealing with an all out poop tsunami.
I stepped back, took a deep breath, steeled myself for the task at hand, and then stepped back into the fray. I'm still new to this but the past five days have honed my diaper changing skills to a competent level. I had my wipes at the ready, the new diaper on deck, and the cream container uncapped. I grasped her ankles, lifter her lower body, removed and folded the offending diaper, and began the extensive cleanup with the wipes.
This is when I discovered that the look pictured above wasn't one of contentment on completing an arduous task. That was a look expressing the successful formulation of a scheme to cover her daddy in poop. She wasn't done pooping. Not even close. But at the moment that picture was taken she knew she could hold the rest of the load. Hold it until daddy least expected it. When the diaper was off and daddy thought the worst of it was over. Then, and only then, would she strike!
And I have to hand it to her, it was a very good plan and executed perfectly. I would have been proud of her if I hadn't been trying to stem the flow of poop with my foot while my hands were doing their best to keep every other item in the vicinity clear of the slurry onslaught.
I swear I heard her giggle.