So, I am pre-dating this post to when the event actually happened, even though I'm not documenting it until 10.13.12.
It was Monday morning. Brian had already left for work for the day, my dad was getting ready to leave to drive to Cincinnati and my mom was still downstairs.
Declan woke up, and it wasn't long before Connor retrieved his stool from his bathroom to "help" change his diaper. I can't even express how proud we are of our "big" guy for how he has dealt with the transition from being an only child to being a big brother. He has not shown any jealousy (so far) and absolutely adores his little brother. His first question when he wakes up is "Where is Declan?" and lets us know right away if he thinks he needs something, etc. He is great at fetching me things that I may need and only wants to run errands with me if Declan is going too. :)
Anyway, he wanted to help. He pulls the little singing monkey that hangs above the changing pad to help entertain Declan. When he appeared this time, I was about 1/2 finished changing him. I heard a little toot and thought it was just gas. When I turned on the lamp near the changing pad, I found a very small puddle of breastmilk poo...yellow and seedy (sorry if that is TMI). I didn't want him to lay in it (since I'd already taken his diaper off). As I was lifting his legs to scoot him up, it happened....rocket-fire, projectile poo shot all the way off the changing pad (it happened to happen at the exact moment I'd lifted his legs) and directly onto his big brother's new Batman jammies. I looked at Connor immediately. Yes, covered in poo. He looked back at me with a terrified look in his eyes and then let out a scream/cry. He stood on the stool, frozen in place, yet crying a pathetic, scared cry. It took everything in me not to burst into laughter, but I knew that wouldn't go over so well with him. I needed help.
Although you'd think at less than 2 weeks, you could leave a newborn on a changing pad for a few seconds, I've seen Declan kick so hard he almost rolls over. He was also still undiapered, so I didn't want it to happen again. But I couldn't exactly help Connor much. I grabbed some wipes and wiped off what I could while (though laughter) called for my mom and my dad. My mom said she heard Connor crying and then heard me call for her. She thought he'd thrown up...it was that kind of cry. By the time she got there (and my dad too) I had to explain (with as little smiling as possible) what had just happened. Connor thought his jammies were ruined. We all promised that they would be washed and just like new. Once we got him stripped down and Declan clean and changed I knew this was something that needed to be documented....blog worthy for sure.
My mom said that through 3 children of her own and 4 grandsons (Declan is #5) this was the first time she witnessed (the aftermath at least) of projectile poop. I was pretty impressed with the power of it all.
A few minutes later, Connor climbed back up and said (most seriously), "Declan, you need to say 'Sorry'." Of course I explained that it was an accident and not something he meant to do. Connor then told him it was okay....he now moves his stool to the other side when I change him...it is safer at his head!
