The Midnight Pooper

Paul and I have decided that the only way to ward off having to wake up to Luka's poopy diapers every morning (and the only way to ensure a better night's sleep for the poor boy) is to get up in the night to change his diapers as soon as he poops.
Last night, I was falling asleep when I heard grunting from the general direction of Luka's crib. He's pooping! I thought. I waited about fifteen minutes (or fifty, depending on whether or not I drifted off), and changed his diaper. There was only a fist-sized (Luka's fist, not mine) lump of poo in his diaper, which I knew from experience to mean that he was not quite done. I changed him anyway and impulsively set him down between Paul and me, figuring it wouldn't hurt to keep him beside us so as to better hear when he continues his pooping. And so I wouldn't have to get up to change the second diaper. And so I could cuddle the little goober for a little while.
Bad idea. Not only does a watched child never poop, but I almost bit a hole through my bottom lip, trying desperately not to succumb to the temptation to squeeze the little monkey to death, he's just THAT CUTE.
After the weight of his huge head cut off the circulation in my left arm, I gave up and brought him back to his crib. I went back to sleep.
And Paul and I woke up to yet another explosive diaper this morning.