Every night, J and I go through the same fight. We usually end up taking a shower together because it cuts down on time and is easier. When the shower is over, I remove his squeaky clean body from the shower and I wrap him up, in the same way as I do every night, in a towel then it's off to his bedroom we go which I have lovingly deemed the Death Chamber.
Sometimes I feel like I'll never see the light of day after I go in but I also know that this is the last stop of the day. I can almost see the light at the end of a very long tunnel. I just have to fight my kid into pajamas to really get there.
I would let him sleep in just a diaper if I didn't run the risk of waking up to a poop and pee filled bed the next morning. There is nothing worse on this planet than having to change a crib mattress sheet. Seriously, I would rather take a dirty fork to the eye than to change that sheet.
When pajama time rolls around, J does everything possible to get off the changing table. That tiny little body has a freakish amount of strength and I'm not always willing to fight it. He usually ends up a onesie that isn't even buttoned. No lotion, no cutsie songs and body party naming. Once the kid hits the table, it's like an 8 second ride and you had better come out with your body intact.
Despite the fight, we both know what's coming to us and neither of us want to change. It's the Evans stubbornness that plagues us both.
Pray for us.