Ah the joys of infant-hood. You have nothing to do in life except, eat, sleep, look absolutely adorable, grow and poop. My granddaughter at five days old and counting has become a poop expert already. She has in her short lifetime discovered ways to render her parents to shouts of horror when they discover either the timing or the capacity of what she is done after she is completely finished with her milk.
Before she left the hospital, she was demonstrating her expertise in baby waste management. Ten minutes after she was born, she was “decorating” the bassinet while the nurse was cleaning her up from the birthing process. The paper with her little footprints will permanently bear the mark of that event. She managed to fill three diapers in about 10 minutes a day later, soil herself and every cloth item in contact with her wee body, and reduce her mommy and daddy to tears of laughter.
Tonight her daddy was changing her. He was getting ready to remove the dirty diaper from under her little bottom when the baby decided to show daddy that she wasn’t done yet. I could hear his protest from across the house. I walked in, saw the mess, the satisfied look on my grandchild’s face, and turned right around and walked out laughing.
If its any consolation, we can rest assured that her digestive system works, exceedingly well. She goes for her first check-up in the morning. And we’ll get assurance that little Helene’ is perfectly healthy, and sometimes a tad stinky.