Pot-Bellied Pig

I am on a mission. I have been rummaging through my sons old baby clothes looking for onesies. I thought that he had outgrown them, but I see a huge glaring need for them once again.
I cannot keep his hand out of his diaper.
Its there. All the time. Walking around, sitting, sleeping even.(I had to take a picture of him sleeping like that. Need to fatten the blackmail photo album in preparation for the teen years.)
Apparently there is a fear running rampant among men that at any given moment, their man parts could fall off. They have to keep close tabs on them at all times.
Step, step. Check. Step, step. Check.
He looks like a little Al Bundy. All he needs is a remote in the other hand.