So you're carrying him, walking over to the table, and he's all, "Whee! Ha ha ha! Mamamamama babbaba. . .WAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAGGHGHHHHHHHHHHHH YOUUUUU SUUUUUCCCCKKK! BASTAAAAARRRDS! GAAAAAAH!
He acts like you are chewing his limbs off. Like you've got this grand plan to strap him to the table and chomp them off bit by bit.
And this is before you can even remove his diaper.
He flings himself to the left, and wraps his little arms around the bar on the side of the table. The bar designed to keep him from just rolling off.
He throws a leg over the bar as well. Or tries to. He has limited success with this, as the side he invariably chooses is the side that faces the wall.
But he clings for dear life, in any case.
It's like he's groping for freedom. Desperate.
AAAAAAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA MAMAMAMAAAAAAAAA AAAABABBBBBAAAA GGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! !!!!!!!
And so on.
So you pry him off the side, and you manage to get his diaper off.
And then he flips himself over. And clutches at the front of the table.
Sometimes I just wipe him off like that, but it makes it very hard to get the Butt Paste on.
Anyway, I have to flip him - more trauma - and then pin him in kind of a wrestling hold.
This incites rage.
WAAAAAAAAA AAAAGGHH AAAAAAASSSSSHOOOOLLLLE BABABABABABABABA I'LLGETYOUFORTHIS AAAAAHHHHH!
And so, one hand pinning the kid, I do the best I can with the diaper. I pull on his pants once I've picked him up.
By which point he's all smiley and, "Oh, Mama! I'm so glad you came home! I love you sooo much! You're the best! Wanna read to me and then maybe we can have a little boob?"