Happy in a nappy? Not Emily.

For someone who's not potty trained yet, Emily sure doesn't like her nappy.

Now that the warmer weather is here, she seems to take every opportunity to take off her socks (which is fine) and evidently her nappy. This is usually not cause for concern, as we catch her before anything untoward occurs or she's out in the garden where we don't care if anything untoward occurs.

Today, however, she decided halfway through a poo that enough was enough and she needed her cheeks to be kissed by mother nature. I only discovered things when I smelt the sewage like cologne that accompanied Emily's turd stained feet, legs and hands... and very quickly our lovely dining room chair.

A quick trip to the prison hose down room (the shower) and all was resolved, Emily-wise. The dining area still stinks like someone with gastric flu came to visit for dinner, however.

Not to be outdone, I've just had to glue Emily's nappy back on her, as I chanced a glance out the window and saw her happily bouncing bottomless on the trampoline.

If only she equated hatred of the nappy with potty training, there'd be no issue. It's just when he decides the whole world is her potty that it's a problem. A very crappy problem.