Diapering as a spectator sport

Lately, D- has taken an increasingly proprietary attitude towards M-, not meaning that he wants to set clear divisions of who owns what (at least not that much) but rather that he seems to believe that he owns her, or at least as much as J- and I do.

At the same time, he also has more than a passing interest in bodily functions, which is to be expected, but this results in a sometimes-awful combination when it comes to diaper-changing time, (along with other times, of course). He thoroughly enjoys using his developing vocabulary to expound upon the properties of M-'s output.

Here's what went on Friday after J- got home and discovered a less-than-immaculate baby:

J-: (laying M- down and handing her a bear she wanted, before depantsing her and employing the standard baby-talk voice) Now, you be a good baby and play with that bear! I'm gonna change your poopy little diaper!

D-: (superhumanly eager, akin to the old Shake n' Bake girl) And I'm gonna watch!!

J-: (finding the eagerness disconcerting, she makes an executive decision) No... no you're not.

D-: Why not?

J-: Cause M- needs some privacy, like when you go to the bathroom.

She then began to change M-, and she immediately noticed D- "casually" walking by the couch and peeking around her back to estimate the relative impressiveness of M-'s byproducts.

J-: D-, get away! I told you to give M- some privacy!

D-: I'm just walkin' around!!

J-: Go walk to the other room!

Once she was done, J- let D- know he could come back, but he very clearly was pretending not to hear her before saying "What?"

She asked, "Don't you want to come back in the room?" and he very dryly answered that no, he did not want to come back right now, as if there was no reason for us to assume he would ever want to be in that room during his work day.

I just can't wait till toilet training, round two.