I am really, really wussy.

Well, this was GOING to be a post about how really frickin' heavy babies get after you hold them for an hour or so (yeah, call me a wuss but you try cradling 8 squirming pounds that you have to constantly reposition while walking around for an hour) , but I started to write it and was interrupted by the God of Poop, Aidan. Picture this: You change the kid's diaper, and he screams and carries on. But once you're done, and he's wrapped up back in your arms, he looks at you with those angelic eyes, and smiles....and unleashes 7 more Hells into his freash diaper. The worst is you have to wait abut 5 or 10 minutes, because you KNOW there is another volley coming. Man, whatever breastfed babies save you in formula, they cost you again in diapers-- our little fecal pump here is going through like 20 a day. Of course, this only really bothers me when I'm the one who just changed him. I find it the pinacle of humor when Mom's the one getting blasted.
Another note: today he was read his first real book, "Brown Bear" by Eric Carle. I made it through the whole thing while keeping his attention....I think that is deserving of a medal. Or at least a cookie. Mmmmmmmmm, cookies. Where was I? Oh yeah, the book. It was pretty cool, seeing him focus on the pictures, and smiling at the voices. Then later, I realized that he was not smiling at the pictures so much as filling his diaper. I've started calling him "Dooder" because of his propensity for making doo-doo.....and because it's nicer that calling him "Shitbrick". I'm pretty sure that would get me yelled at.

So what have we learned today? Well, in a nutshell-- babies poop. A lot.

In retrospect, it seems an obvious lesson. Sorry to have wasted your time.