DD then-almost-3 decided in the middle of Animal Kingdom that she was no longer going to wear a diaper. Tantrum, tantrum, off came the diaper.
At that point (mid-afternoon, long hot day, everyone tired), I wasn't going to fight her over the diaper. She had a knee-length dress on, so odds were that no one was going to notice, and I knew she wasn't likely to pee in the next couple hours anyhow. When you're a mom, you pick your battles.
The battle I chose to pick was "Sitting in the middle of the pathway with your dress hiked up around your waist and your bare butt on the pavement, screaming at the top of your lungs, is unacceptable."
We reach a food-based compromise, only to discover that all of the pretzel and popcorn wagons in the area are closed. Nor is there a chocolate milk vendor nearby, nor is there anything for her in the stroller.
We reach an alternative food-based compromise, in which she agrees to come to the farthest-back seating in the closed-for-the-day Chakranadi Chicken Shop and stop bawling, and I agree that she can nurse in public.
We move, we sit, she starts nursing, I look vaguely off into the distance and wait for her to be done. A few minutes later, I look down, and discover that she's got her dress pulled up to her armpits and her hand between her legs. And that a couple of other people have sat down around us.
I had always wondered how Disney could manage to sell a 3-pack of little girl underwear for $15. Now I know!
At that point (mid-afternoon, long hot day, everyone tired), I wasn't going to fight her over the diaper. She had a knee-length dress on, so odds were that no one was going to notice, and I knew she wasn't likely to pee in the next couple hours anyhow. When you're a mom, you pick your battles.
The battle I chose to pick was "Sitting in the middle of the pathway with your dress hiked up around your waist and your bare butt on the pavement, screaming at the top of your lungs, is unacceptable."
We reach a food-based compromise, only to discover that all of the pretzel and popcorn wagons in the area are closed. Nor is there a chocolate milk vendor nearby, nor is there anything for her in the stroller.
We reach an alternative food-based compromise, in which she agrees to come to the farthest-back seating in the closed-for-the-day Chakranadi Chicken Shop and stop bawling, and I agree that she can nurse in public.
We move, we sit, she starts nursing, I look vaguely off into the distance and wait for her to be done. A few minutes later, I look down, and discover that she's got her dress pulled up to her armpits and her hand between her legs. And that a couple of other people have sat down around us.
I had always wondered how Disney could manage to sell a 3-pack of little girl underwear for $15. Now I know!