Poop Happens

I've had a pretty rockin' weekend. My Papa Davis came to visit. I was asleep when he got in on Saturday night, but mommy told me that he came in my room to check me out. We hung out some today. Here is a picture of me telling him about all of my new accomplishments, including that I can now hold and shake a rattle if mommy puts it in my hand. As you can see, I am very proud.

One thing I'm not so jazzed about, however, is how mommy has been waking me up in the morning. I am so happy to see her that I just smile and coo, but mommy's expression quickly turns to a look of dismay when she picks me up. Apparently, she is troubled by the fact that I've had blowouts out the back of my diaper for the past three (yes, three) nights. They don't bother me at all - I sleep right through them and am happy as a clam just sleeping in poopy pajamas...until mommy strips me and gives me a thorough (albeit impromptu) baby wipe bath. No one needs that crap (no pun intended) at 7:00 in the morning. It's not much better for mommy. She is mortified. She's tried going up a size in diapers, but that didn't work. She double-checks to make sure they're on tight, but it hasn't helped. She even sent out a mass email to all of her friends who have had baby boys seeking some kind of solution...no luck. What can I say, poop happens.