Z had pooped just before breakfast and her bath.
So we (and by “we”, I mean PL) removed the soiled diaper, and since it was going to be a short while before bath, decided to risk it by not giving her a new diaper, and just have her just wear her pants.
And so PL said to Z: “you’re not wearing diapers, so don’t pee, okay?”
[Spoiler Alert: No. Z did NOT pee. This is not that kind of story. Besides, that would be cliched.]
So we sat her in her high chair and gave her breakfast. Which was a smorgasbord of whatever she demanded.
She had cheese, teddy bear shaped bread (cookie cutter, see picture below) which were disguised as pandas (used Bovril to colour ears and legs, and added a black band to the arms and chest), corn flakes and milk, and peanut butter sandwich. It sounds like a lot, but she didn’t finish most of them.
Then we (and by “we”, I mean PL) said, “okay, time for bath” and lifted Z from the high chair.
And Z said, “my pants stuck (to my butt).”
That had never happened before because she was always in diapers, so her pants won’t be in contact with her butt.
“You’re going to love panties, when you grow up,” I told her.