So it was like any other nappy free time (famous story starting point?! Y/Y??) until I heard Mike’s panicked voice say “Rachel! Look!!”
I turn around to see my baby boy… on all fours… with poo down his thighs and an absurd amount of poo on the blanket that he was playing on.
Until this point I was unaware of the smell. It’s a bit like when you don’t realise you have hurt yourself until you see the blood and all of a sudden there’s so much pain… Well I turned around and my brain registered the poonami in front of me and suddenly my nostrils were assulted with stink.
The following moments are a blur of laughter, frantic wiping, yelling and running around.
I didn’t take a photo so I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a diagram for you all:
The bath was running so I took a now semi-cleaned-up Cameron into the bathroom to turn off the taps and get us both clean while I left Mike with the offending mess (I’m good like that).
But before we could enter the bath I heard Mike, even more panicked, from the room “Oh God! I dropped it”. Through fits of laughter I made it back to the room to see Michael scooping up said logs of baby poo with a CD.
“I hope you don’t want this Mariah Carey CD”. I was snorting. Yes, snorting, with laughter.
We finally made it to the bathtub and settled ourselves in for the most efficient cleaning of our lives when Cam pulled that face. Fellow Mums, you know the one. The Poo Face.
Yes, blog readers.
He pooed in the bath. I scooped poo out of the bath with my bare hands while screaming dramatically as Cam looked super satisfied with the situation.
I am fully hoping that this is the first and last poo story I tell. Thanks for reading!
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