Don't Let the Light From Above Fool You...

This boy is no Angel after what he did today!

This is his third outfit for the day. It is 3p.m. and he is wearing jammies.

He must be channeling his inner Hugh Hefner, ya know, minus the ho-bags and whatnot.

The first outfit was a cute pair of brown baby cargo pants and a long sleeved green onsie with a moose on it. Underneath the moose it said "Little Guy". I'm not sure what "Little Guy" has to do with the moose, but there you have it. Of course, this was also his first time wearing this shirt/onsie. With both of us dressed and ready to go, we headed off to the gym. Some how his bottle leaked all over him. The day care lady actually had to come get me because it was leaking so much. To solve the mystery, I unscrewed and then rescrewed the top back on. No more leaks. Special touch I have.

We came home and selected a different long sleeved onsie, same pants though.

P.S. I LOVE selecting his clothes and I find it very interesting that this side of 3 years from now he will be picking out his own stuff and I will likely be running errands with the superhero of the moment complete with cape.

Anyway, his second outfit was a cute blue onsie with light blue dogs on it and it said "Dog Gone Cute" across his chest. Dog Gone Cute indeed!
We went to Target to return some stuff and buy monkey a new book- Curious George Travels or something...
While we are in the store he throws up on himself. I wipe away the baby bile with the sleeve of my own shirt and move on. Really, this does not even phase me and would not warrant an outfit change, for either of us. However, what happened on the car ride home can only be described as foul.

We are riding along. Sleeping monkey in the back.

I look in the rear view to check on him and he is awake, but not crying. Good.

Then I hear it.

A tummy rumble worthy of a full sized truck driver man.

I mean he was in the backseat I was in the front, with the radio on and I heard the rumble.

Darn it! Maybe I could just drive around until Josh is home and when I get there I will pretend to know nothing of what lurks in our sons' diaper. It will be as if it is a shock to us all.

Ok, ok I did not do that.
I drove home and since I had not had lunch yet, I put P-man in his Pack and Play and made myself a chicken sandwich. I ate it. I had to eat it for I knew once I changed the diaper all hope would be lost for lunch.

I laid a blanket on the floor and put P-man on top of it.

As I peeled off his baby cargo's I was smacked in the face with a terrible smell. Before I went any further I ran to his room and grabbed his PJ's and the rest of his dirty clothes, I knew a load of laundry was going to need to be thrown in the machine.

To spare you what I had to witness firsthand, I will not go into all the details. I will say though there was poop on his stomach. Nay, there was poop just about on his chest. I guess since he poo'ed in the seated position it projected up and around or something.

I shudder when I think of it.

My side story of the day is a special note to the man on the stationary bike next to me at the gym this morning.
Dear Sir:
Dear Old Sir:
Dear Old Gross Sweaty Sir in the t-shirt with the arm hole that was ripped down to your waist and it was obviously not suppose to be that way seeing as the shirt itself was practically see-through as it has likely been washed 4, 532 times,
You are old, sweaty and moley. Please wear an appropriate shirt or I will W-I-L-L throw up on you next time.
Regards
N. Phillips