Sunday afternoon after you woke up from your nap, I sloppily picked you up in your blanket, as it flopped over on top of your head.
I could tell you were in the mood to be walked around the house; looking out windows and at wall decorations. Obviously, the most interesting thing going on in our house is typically your brother Jack.
He was busy this time making a plane out of the couch, covered with his tent as well as blankets and pillows. He explained to me that the motor is the sword he made out of blocks.
Then he looked up and saw you: “Daddy, how can she even see with that blanket over her eyes?”
I hadn’t noticed that the blanket had fallen from on top of your head into the form of a hood, leaving just enough room for you to see.
As I continued walking you around our house, I was surprised that you hadn’t made a peep; even though your diaper was wet, since you had just woken up from your nap.
But I wasn’t going to stop the show. If you were happy in your strange condition, I wouldn’t be the one to interfere.
By the time 30 minutes had passed, and you were still quiet and content under your homemade hood, I developed a likely theory:
You believed that the hood from the blanket made you invisible.
And I say this because I’ve never seen you go so long while in need of a diaper change, without making a sound. It was as if you felt if you did, it would expire your superpower of invisibility.
In the end, you went about an hour before finally choosing to expire your ability to be unseen by the rest of the world.