We've gone through quite a few onesies (5 to be exact) today and it's not even 2 pm. A few were spit up on and a couple were poo-sploded on.
Ava and I went to the new moms group at the hospital where she was born today. It was nice to be out of the house and to be around other moms with their babies. Soon after we got there, I heard it. My baby has audible poops, must take after her father, and this one was no different. She was sleeping and stayed asleep so I figured it must have sounded worse than it was since it didn't seem to bother her. The minute she stirred, I got her out of her car seat to see that I was wrong. It wasn't that bad but it definitely called for a new outfit, which is too bad because her first outfit was so cute.
Then we got home. Fredo was holding Ava and heard the unmistakable sound of our baby crapping her pants. I took her to her room, laid her on her changing table, began to undress her and promptly called for back up. She had poo all over her back. While trying to figure out the best way to get her onesie off without getting poo everywhere, we had the following conversation.
Me: I feel like we should just cut it off.
Fredo: It's just poop, not like it's a gunshot wound or something.
I found that hysterical. I'm still laughing about it.