I mention this because we seem to have fallen into a similar division of labor when it comes to night wakings. I take care of LO's input, and I wake J and ask him to please take care of the output. This division is probably not entirely fair, but I pull lactation rank. And as sleepy as I've been lately, I'd probably end up diapering the child's head by accident.
Last night, at the the 4 am diaper change, J for some reason put a disposable on LO rather than one of our cloth diapers. I have found that LO's bottom does not fit equally well into all disposables. The WalMart brand diapers fit him the best, and the uber-expensive Huggies seem to fit him like a gangsta's jeans. (And with no belt to hold them up, it ends up looking more like LO is entering the field of plumbing.) J also tends to be sleepy at 4 am (who knew?), so I suspect that this was no his most skillful diaper-fastening. Once J had re-diapered the child, he took him out of his pajamas, as they had not avoided the line of fire the last time LO had done something disgusting. Rather than stumble down the hall to LO's room to find a new sleep suit, J brought him back to bed in nothing but his diaper.
Fast forward several hours. My alarm went off as LO was enjoying his normal morning meal. ("Breakfast" as a term doesn't cover this meal. First, because one expects there to be a "fast" for one to "break" in order to enjoy breakfast, and lately LO has been eating enough times during the night that I don't think Gandhi would approve. And second, breakfast implies a single meal/eating activity, while LO likes to stretch out the first go at Mom's Kitchen for several hours.) In any case, J hit the snooze button and I tried to enjoy the nine minutes of silence before the hubbub began again.
J stumbled to the shower after the next round of alarm bells, and I started to seriously weigh the relative merits of caffeine versus a mid-morning nap. As Obie began jumping up and down in his excitement at the prospect of a bowl of dry meat-like product and then a discreet visit to the back yard (it must be great to be so easily delighted), I realized that I was going to have to get up.
I put on my glasses, turned to pick up the baby, and then realized that the child was not wearing a stitch of clothing.
Lying at his feet was the discarded disposable. Somehow, our little squirmer managed to wriggle his tiny heiney out of the diaper. And, of course, he was simply thrilled at his own audacity.
"It's NAKED TIME!" he seemed to say. His eyes danced with joy.
I scooped up the kid post haste and hurried to the changing table. Baby boys are notorious for choosing inopportune moments to decide they have to pee. And darn it, I had just changed the sheets.
Luckily for all involved, LO did not take advantage of his unfettered access to christen our bed, me, or the dog. But I don't put it past him to try this again. If he wriggles his way out of another diaper, we might have to institute a rule for layering pajamas.