You hear about the babies who are "explosive poopers" and all you can do is hope that yours won't be one of those babies. Well, we seem to have won the poop lottery. Maybe it's Walter's slim build that makes diapers not fit quite right. All I know is that he has pooped on more things than I ever imagined possible. He has overflowed diapers at home, in the mall, at the movies, at the new mom group I joined, in his Excersaucer (that one was a real pain to clean), just before leaving the house, just after leaving the house, and the list goes on and on. I think he has gotten poop on every pair of jeans I own. One day, he managed to poop his way through three outfits (his and mine) all before 10am. And you can't forget the time I handed him to Grandma Billmeyer, warning her that he hadn't pooped all day. Almost immediately, as if on cue, the poop started raining out of his diaper and onto the floor.
Then we started him on solid food, and things got better. Everything firmed up, so to speak, and things started to stay put. I thought that would be the end of the mess. The last of the two to three daily outfit changes. The end of the pile of clothes in the laundry room, soaking in OxyClean. But today, Nate called me at work to ask, "How do you get his shirt off without getting poop on his head?"
All you can do is laugh. And then put him in the bathtub, of course.