Every once in a while, Jacob has these explosive bowel movements that strain the diaper and create reverberations throughout the house. (Note to self: I should start watching the cat closer to see if she gets weird and jumpy beforehand, like they do before a thunderstorm hits.) Today was one of those experiences. It just fills the diaper, eeks out the sides and up the back, and generally creates one poop-intensive baby.

Luckily, he was wearing a white outfit - it'll BLEACH, YAY! - and even luckier, he wasn't wearing a onesie underneath, so we didn't have to deal with the poop in the ears and hair and armpits today. A little disappointing, yes, but sometimes cleanliness is worth the trade-off of less fecal excitement.

So, he's on his changing table, babbling and grinning away. In the past few weeks, he's gotten quite a bit better with his hands... which includes figuring out that, "HEY, there's something down in this diaper-area that's kind of fun to poke at!" So he's poking, I'm trying to keep the chaos minimized, and he suddenly reaches just a little farther than usual, and comes up with a big old handful of poop.

Now, I'm all for exploration and I'm not freaked out by babies touching themselves or wanting to explore their environment or wanting to taste everything they can grab... but I draw the line at sticking poop-covered fingers in the mouth. I'm holding onto his arm, using my body to deflect his other arm away from the Demilitarized Zone down below, and trying to develop a third arm to grab a wipe for that suddenly-offensive little hand. (Another note to self: ALWAYS buy pop-up wipes from now on, these reach-ins take up critical extra seconds in the decontamination process.)

Luckily, the situation was successfully defused without him ingesting any of the yuck. We've restocked dozens of small-and-hopefully-interesting toys up by the head-side of the changing table.

So glad today is laundry day anyway....