Are there nudist colonies for babies? Nudist daycare? Naked playgroup? Mommy & Me: In The Buff? There sure as shit should be, then I wouldn't have to fight the petit weenie-patrol every diaper-changing hour. Then I wouldn't have to fight Yves Sage-Laurent every time we leave the house. Then I wouldn't have to search the internet for "baby's bottom" to illustrate my point/this post. Then the neighbors wouldn't think I was beating my child because of the bloody-murderous screams that erupt every time I try to (God forbid) offer my child a pair of socks.
"Please, put on this tiny onesie for mama."
"No! AHHHHHHHHHHHH! No!"
"Please put on these little shorts?"
"No! No! No!" (Scratch, scratch, punch, kick, karate-chop, elbow in the boob)
Getting le puffed-pastry-a-la-mode dressed is the worst kind of cat fight, complete with killer-talons, eye-lid grabbing and I always end up looking like some kind of masochist, bruised and scraped with two black-eyes.
It's not funny. It's abuse. If there was only a place we could go where we weren't alone. If only we could go somewhere people understood us... If only there was a place where I could live in peace in my full-body cast and Archer could crawl around naked, ding-a-linging all over the property in happiness.
Lately I have kind of given up. If I can get a diaper on the tiny nudist, I'm happy. I am a success. I am the champion. Pants? Shoes? A shirt? It's just too dangerous.
So I guess Sweden here we come. Me, Sir Archer Doo-little and his Dusendorf Svaan.
Afternooner Update: Who is the glorious parent of this child?
Call me asap so we can playdate. Thanks to my MIL for the photo.