The War On Poop

Lovebug seems perfectly healthy. He runs around, plays, eats and sleeps like he normally does. But yesterday when I got him up from nap, there was a problem. As soon as I opened the door, I could smell the problem. But instead of just a tickle under a mommy's nose, the smell was a cloud of poison gas. It enveloped me, but I covered my nose with my hand and struggled over to the crib like any brave soldier.

The carnage was everywhere - on Lovebug's legs, on his sheets, on his stuffed animals and in his hair. I removed my little survivor and brought him to the changing table. He was fighting me, possibly hoping I could save his bunny too, but my priority was him. I stripped off the sodden clothes and began to clean him. But I realized that I needed a proper surgeon. I yelled for Hot Guy (who was, thank the Goddess, at home).

He took the patient to the shower and I began to work on his comrades. I gathered bunny, bear, dog and polar bear up and herded them to the washing machine. I brought singing Pablo to the sink. I stripped the sheets and realized that I would also have to clean the mattress liner, the mattress and the bars of the crib. I got to work.

Lovebug returned from his shower in good spirits. Now all is clean. Lovebug has not had any more diarrhea. But last night I had flashbacks.