So, it turns out that my son is remarkably good at projecting his poo across the room. (I kid you not.)
Claire was already downstairs expressing when I got up this morning at 6am and so I picked Jack up to change his bum and take him downstairs to feed him as normal. Jack was still a bit sleepy, but this wasn’t anything unusual, so I carried on regardless. I took his nappy off and began wiping off last night’s poo when all of a sudden, and in a split-second or less, wholegrain-mustard poo erupted from this angelic little boy’s bum and spread itself far and wide across the room.
In terms of the distance covered, we’re not talking a few inches here. We’re talking about 4 foot away, possibly more. All over the rocking chair, the floor, the wash bin, the pooy-nappy bin and all the way back to the changing mat that he’s sat on.
To make matters a little worse, he then obviously needed a wee, but forgot to raise his little hand and ask to go to the loo, so he got a little wet too. But this is all much of a nothingness really, as yellow-brown colour poo is tinting the room. All I could do is call for immediate backup. By the time said backup arrived, I had managed to clean him up, get him dressed and wipe up the wipeable bits.
I was trying to imagine the pressure needed to have built up inside a little baby that could recreate such effect. Whilst on the way to work this morning, I even contemplated trying to recreate the scene (in the name of science, of course), using a squeezy tomato sauce bottle, but only reconsidered after realising that
Claire was already downstairs expressing when I got up this morning at 6am and so I picked Jack up to change his bum and take him downstairs to feed him as normal. Jack was still a bit sleepy, but this wasn’t anything unusual, so I carried on regardless. I took his nappy off and began wiping off last night’s poo when all of a sudden, and in a split-second or less, wholegrain-mustard poo erupted from this angelic little boy’s bum and spread itself far and wide across the room.
In terms of the distance covered, we’re not talking a few inches here. We’re talking about 4 foot away, possibly more. All over the rocking chair, the floor, the wash bin, the pooy-nappy bin and all the way back to the changing mat that he’s sat on.
To make matters a little worse, he then obviously needed a wee, but forgot to raise his little hand and ask to go to the loo, so he got a little wet too. But this is all much of a nothingness really, as yellow-brown colour poo is tinting the room. All I could do is call for immediate backup. By the time said backup arrived, I had managed to clean him up, get him dressed and wipe up the wipeable bits.
I was trying to imagine the pressure needed to have built up inside a little baby that could recreate such effect. Whilst on the way to work this morning, I even contemplated trying to recreate the scene (in the name of science, of course), using a squeezy tomato sauce bottle, but only reconsidered after realising that
- a) I don’t have a squeezy bottle and
- b) Claire probably wouldn’t like it anyway.
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