Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Oh lord, the almighty blow out
The Smilus woke up early from his afternoon nap fussier than usual, especially after a nice long nap. I was determined to finish this one damn email for the love of all things holy so I let him fuss a bit before going up to get him. I tiptoed up the stairs to avoid waking Boy Wonder who had JUST drifted off after extended effort and bribery on my part, opened the door, and was nearly knocked backward with the sweet scent of breast milk poop, and I mean sweet in the way dead things smell sweet not in the way cake smells sweet.
Whoa, baby! The blow out of his lifetime awaited me. It had soaked through his onesie onto his sleep sack and right on through to his sheet. So prolific was the poop that the material of his onesie was more tarnished than not tarnished. I peeled that sucker off down his shit smeared body and threw it directly into the trash can.
And here's what I don't get. Blow outs are like a great unexplained mystery. The back of his diaper was completely clean and free of any fecal matter what-so-ever. WTF? Does he have a secret butt hole up front that we aren't aware of? How on Earth does the poop shoot out of his backside and manage to completely cover him in shit from his thighs to above his belly button yet leave his dimpled little butt cheeks completely unscathed?
It's some kind of crazy breast milk powered propulsion system that defies gravity and leaves the caretaker bewildered, baffled, and in need of surgical level scrubbing up to the elbows.
Photo Credit Mike Murphy.