I thought the days of diaper blow outs were behind us-
but then I gave Jillian too much cheese...
(She has a bit of a lactose intolerance).
The smell hit me first and I knew something bad happened. Like maybe something had gone off in the fridge, or a dead hooker was stuffed under my couch. When Jillian started walking towards me it all clicked. Oh crap. I think this was like the 4th time today (like I said, too much cheese).
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor and she came and plopped herself in my lap. This is okay for a second, right? I mean, she IS wearing a diaper. It WAS okay...until she started doing the baby cha cha with her hips. Then it all happened in slow motion. Every time she squirmed, she was squishing the poop out of her diaper and down the legs of my jeans.
You can imagine the look of horror on my face.
In one fell swoop, I scooped her up and we ran upstairs to the bathtub. I didn't want to take the diaper off in the tub for fear of what would trickle onto the bath mat. So I left her standing in the tub and stripped off my jeans. Then laid her on the floor and took her diaper off/used fifty thousand wipes to clean her up and put her back in the tub. I redressed myself and proceeded to give her a bath.
WHEW. I think I deserve a metal of honor for that one.
That all being said, I've been thinking of a little gift to give some girls at church. This incident reminded me of a poem about poop.
(It's not really poop...they're chocolate truffles. Yum.)
Click on the image to get the printable: