Well, it's finally happened. Max has learned to remove his own diaper. I thought that I had prepared myself for this day, but it turns out that you are never really ready. Max has de-diapered himself twice since Friday, and I have caught him fingering the Velcro fastenings on two or three other occasions, just waiting until my guard is down. Here is Max taunting his vanquished foe after his first successful booty liberation. If you look in the background, you can see Edgar Cat looking on disgustedly. After all, a diaper-free existence was all that Edgar had left to make himself feel superior to Max.
What I mind the most is not the nudity. It's not even the peeing on the floor that goes along with the nudity. What I mind the most is Max's total and unrepentant joy as he shows me the fruits of his labor. (Speaking of which, Ian censored this photo a bit, in the interests of Max's future modesty, which will hopefully kick in sometime before he starts high school.) Shortly after I took this photo, Max learned that approaching me with his freshly removed diaper in hand led to a swift and merciless repantsing. He has, therefore, since decided that it is in his best interests to run away from me immediately after nudifying himself, in order to prolong his pants-free moments. It's been one rollicking, naked-baby-butt-chasing adventure after another at the Tillman house ever since.