Shootin' the Shiznit

If you've ever changed the diaper of a very small baby boy, you know that you've gotta protect yourself or you'll get sprayed with pee as soon as the air hits the goods. I knew that even before I had kids, thanks to my umpteen-million nephews and their umpteen-million diapers. But then I had my own children, and now that I'm on my third boy I've developed a theory: the pee spray doesn't happen that often when your boys are uncircumcised. All three of my sons are uncirc'ed, and I can probably count one on hand the number of times that they've peed on me during a diaper change. I can't scientifically prove this, but everybody knows that my opinion is just as good as fact. Right?

... RIGHT???

*cricket, cricket*

Anyway, though my sons' foreskins may protect me from being peed on, there is no protection from being pooped on.

You can see where this is going.

Yesterday I went to change Coby's sodden diaper. As soon as I opened it, a bit of poo oozed out like a little sausage grinder. "Oops!" I chirped, blissfully unaware of the horrible fate that was soon to befall me. "Mommy will just wait." And so I covered him back up for a minute or two, hoping he'd finish his doody - er, duty. When I peeked back into the diaper, it looked like he had pooped all he was going to poop, so I proclaimed it safe and began to proceed with changing him.

Suddenly, I was sprayed with a projectile arc of bright yellow poo accompanied by a grown-man-sized fart. Thank God Curtis was home. "Help!" I yelled. "Get me something!"

So what did my helpful husband bring?

The camera.

(That ass.)

Between guffaws of laughter, he took photo after photo of my misfortune. "Hurry up!" I shrieked. "This is gross! It's not funny!"

Finally he went to retrieve a towel, still grasping the camera. And just as he walked back into the room ... SPLAT! I was hit with a second tsunami of poop, this time coating the back of my hand, dripping warmly between my fingers. Ironically, it was the hand that was holding the diaper in place to protect against that very thing. Ugh.

And *snap, snap, snap* went the camera.

... Until I smacked Curtis across the face with my poopy hand. Pow!

... Just kidding, but I totally should've.

Anyway, I've refrained from posting the pictures within the blog for those of you with, um, more delicate sensibilities. (You're welcome.) But if you'd like to see the photographic evidence, you can find the pictures here and here.

May your day NOT be as "crappy" as mine. :)