A Rash Decision
Before my sabbatical, I mentioned that Abbie was obsessed with Butt Paste. She went through where she insisted on a glob of diaper rash cream smeared on her nether regions during every diaper change this cute little phase. Even though her habit was a little unpleasant, unnecessary, and uneconomical, I indulged her; I fight her with everything else throughout the day, I can give in to this little thing. Plus, it’s only temporary.
After a week of her throwing a fit every time I tried to slip her shorts over her non-creamed diaper, I decided it was time to break the habit. It wasn’t the bruises on my forearms from her flailing legs that changed my mind. It wasn’t the mounting expense of ointment tubes that changed my mind. It wasn’t even the look of revulsion on the babysitter’s face when I told her Abbie had to have a shot of salve with every fresh diaper that changed my mind.
The event that changed my mind happened Saturday. I left Abbie unsupervised for a few minutes, which is always a bad idea. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I just have to tend to other things around the house, such as emergencies involving the two other children roaming the halls. I left an episode of Dora running anyway, which is usually just as good as leaving her supervised. When I returned from whatever task that seems insignificant in retrospect, I found Abbie sitting in front of the television watching Dora. That part was normal, but the part about her being naked accept for the layer of diaper rash cream coating most of her body was not. Abbie had taken advantage of my inattentiveness to sneak up to the changing table, pull the tube from the top drawer, and go cream crazy. The sight of zinc oxide smeared on the furniture and rug combined with the sudden realization that Abbie had been removing her diaper for the thrill of another dose of diaper rash cream led to my decision to break her habit.
Breaking the habits of a three-year-old, a creature that thrives on routine, that has the coping skills of a howler monkey* can be tricky. If she devolves into an uncontrollable screaming pile of toddler for hours if I forget to give her a vitamin before bedtime, how will she react to withdrawal from her favorite drug?
I tried going cold turkey with her yesterday morning. When I changed her overnight diaper, I told her we had no more diaper rash cream, which wasn’t a complete lie considering her cream capades the previous day. I held the drawer shut so she couldn’t see the spare tubes I still need for the boys. I told her she was too big for diaper rash cream.
When she threw a fit anyway, I sang to her on the changing table. Eventually her legs calmed to the point where I could slip her shorts over her feet. When she stood up, with pants in position and still singing with me, I knew we’d made progress.
We’ve changed several diapers now, and she still wants her diaper rash cream. I’m continuing to tell her no, hide the cream from her, and sing when she approaches meltdown stage. She still gets mad, but hopefully she’s had her last dose of diaper rash cream, at least until she sneaks into the drawer again.
* Up to and possibly including the flinging of poo.
After a week of her throwing a fit every time I tried to slip her shorts over her non-creamed diaper, I decided it was time to break the habit. It wasn’t the bruises on my forearms from her flailing legs that changed my mind. It wasn’t the mounting expense of ointment tubes that changed my mind. It wasn’t even the look of revulsion on the babysitter’s face when I told her Abbie had to have a shot of salve with every fresh diaper that changed my mind.
The event that changed my mind happened Saturday. I left Abbie unsupervised for a few minutes, which is always a bad idea. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I just have to tend to other things around the house, such as emergencies involving the two other children roaming the halls. I left an episode of Dora running anyway, which is usually just as good as leaving her supervised. When I returned from whatever task that seems insignificant in retrospect, I found Abbie sitting in front of the television watching Dora. That part was normal, but the part about her being naked accept for the layer of diaper rash cream coating most of her body was not. Abbie had taken advantage of my inattentiveness to sneak up to the changing table, pull the tube from the top drawer, and go cream crazy. The sight of zinc oxide smeared on the furniture and rug combined with the sudden realization that Abbie had been removing her diaper for the thrill of another dose of diaper rash cream led to my decision to break her habit.
Breaking the habits of a three-year-old, a creature that thrives on routine, that has the coping skills of a howler monkey* can be tricky. If she devolves into an uncontrollable screaming pile of toddler for hours if I forget to give her a vitamin before bedtime, how will she react to withdrawal from her favorite drug?
I tried going cold turkey with her yesterday morning. When I changed her overnight diaper, I told her we had no more diaper rash cream, which wasn’t a complete lie considering her cream capades the previous day. I held the drawer shut so she couldn’t see the spare tubes I still need for the boys. I told her she was too big for diaper rash cream.
When she threw a fit anyway, I sang to her on the changing table. Eventually her legs calmed to the point where I could slip her shorts over her feet. When she stood up, with pants in position and still singing with me, I knew we’d made progress.
We’ve changed several diapers now, and she still wants her diaper rash cream. I’m continuing to tell her no, hide the cream from her, and sing when she approaches meltdown stage. She still gets mad, but hopefully she’s had her last dose of diaper rash cream, at least until she sneaks into the drawer again.
* Up to and possibly including the flinging of poo.
posted by Matt at
11:49 PM
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