It was just a regular morning, just like any other. Or so I thought. Oh, if I could only go back to the peacefulness of that morning, and if I could unsee the trauma of poop that I saw that morning. I heard the sounds of the baby cooing in his room, so I shuffled down the hall and picked out an outfit to change him into, and draped it over the side of the crib. I undressed the baby, and placed the old diaper in the diaper genie, noticing with my tired eyes that there was a tiny smear of baby surprise in the diaper. I walked back over, and he had rolled onto his side, and a cute dimpled baby butt was visible. Before I knew it, I found myself lost in thought about my day, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
The trauma (of poop!)
Suddenly, out of that cute tush shot something so incredibly terrifying that I cannot adequately describe it with words. It shot out five feet, with the pressure of a fire hydrant, and narrowly missing my leg. Landing on the side of the crib, on the rug, on the hardwood, with a large portion landing in his baby tub that was sitting on the floor of the nursery. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t speak. I was in shock. All I could do is roll the baby onto his back to try to stop it from flying through the air, but it was too late. It was everywhere. Poop! I stood there in shocked silence at the disaster around me. I then continued to stand in stunned silence.
My husband woke up, and walked in to the nursery. He took a moment to survey the damage AND HE LAUGHED. He laughed at my pain, and at the warzone that surrounded me and our infant. Before I knew it I was laughing too, and began to clean up the disaster around me. The moral of the story is: always keep your wits about you, infants know when you are lost in thought and they will seize that moment and change your life forever.