There are no pictures with this post, and when you realize the subject matter, you will understand why I refrained.
Little and I had a quiet nursing session this afternoon on the living room couch. Abruptly I heard/smelled/felt that my wee son had a bowel movement. He began cooing at me in a most endearing way, but still continued eating through all the commotion. So I let him finish eating, then carefully held him upright as we walked to the bedroom where our changing station is located. Somehow in that small time frame, poop made an escape out Little's diaper from both top and leg openings. His whole back became caked in curry-colored excrement. Yum. I started laughing--what else could I do?--and then got scissors.
That's right, scissors...because there was no way I could see myself lifting Little's outfit over his head without getting poo in his hair. I HAD TO CUT OFF HIS CLOTHES. When clothes cutting becomes necessary, that is called "a blow-out of epic proportion," I believe.