The Poop Post

You've been warned.

We met a pet sitter, went to the Zoo, had a happy morning, yadda yadda. A is particularly smiley and happy today.

Then A pooped more than I think he's ever pooped. It was not contained by the diaper or the onesie (Hanna freaking Andersson, of course, because he only has blow-outs in Hanna freaking Andersson, not the cheap stuff) and was barely contained by the pants. It was the first time he's been so filthy that I just put him in the bathtub instead of trying to wipe him up.

We had a bath, cleaned him up, and fifteen minutes later we have another poop blow-out (in Old Navy, not Hanna).

Fine. I wipe him up, get him dressed in outfit number 3 (resale, so we're safe, right?), and we play. He's standing and teething on everything and is happy. We play Superman, where I hold him over my head horizontally and cheer him on. He's laughing and giggling and boy is the world a fabulous place when he's laughing.

He spits up all over my face.