Holy S#*t!

Sticky Baby is teething in a big way. Nothing new, it's been ongoing since month 3 of his life. Unfortunately, the way it is manifesting himself is horrifyingly, dry-retchingly new..

Acid poohs. Need I say more.

Well actually, I do. 'Cause for those of you who are yet to come face to face, or rather nose to ass with one of these shockers, you need to to know everything you possibly can to either a) be as prepared as possible or b) avoid any such encounter completely.

I have mentioned in previous posts that Sticky Baby is very vocal about doing his business. The neighbour down the street knows when he's pushing out a turtle head. He's that loud. But lately, he's switched things up. He's decided that our sense of hearing has had enough of a workout and now it's time to rev up our sense of smell.

Ok, these poohs or should I say small natural disasters smell like nothing you've ever smelt before. This kid's bum should come with it's own laminated warning label.

So now we don't have the heads up to when he's done a whopper. Usually with the grunting and growling we knew that he had delivered a package. But now. Silence......No cues, no warnings....Silence. Whoever said silence is golden needs to be smacked in the head.

It's not until you're about 3 metres away that you realise something is terribly wrong. And the scent is being emitted by the human in a onesie.

Lordy. It's an all round nostril assault. It makes you gag. It makes you say, 'Jesus Christ' very loudly. If you were southern, it would make you say, 'Da-yum'.

So that's just the smell. Then you actually have to deal with it. Until now, changing Sticky Baby has actually been rather fine. Neat and tidy really. But now. Da-yum. Papadada and I are a few nappies shy of constructing a baby tool-belt with an endless supply of wet-wipes that you can pull out at will. You need about 20 to clean this mess up. And it's all techni-colour in there. Neon has made a resurgence.

The good thing is that you CAN avoid being the one to clean it up. Because the production of one of these horrors is silent, all it really takes is a strategic whiff in Sticky Baby's direction and all of a sudden you can be all, 'Oh, better hang out the laundry. I'll get it' or 'Gotta load the dishwasher, but don't worry, it's my turn' or better yet, 'You've been at work, why don't you enjoy play time with Sticky Baby and I'll get dinner ready'. I'm evil. Truly I am. Although not an evil genius, as Papadada reads all my posts.......shit....love you! 


We're going through that many nappies of late that we've decided to allow free-balling a few times a day. With this hot weather and Sticky Baby's love of the backyard wading pool, it's a win-win situation. I captured this photo post-explosive pooh, Sticky Baby naked as the day he was born, catching a few zzzzs in his swing. Bless him. And his bum.