It’s been a while since I’ve talked about Nathan’s poop, mostly because I thought nothing could outdo the last poop blowout he had.  It’s like I have become desensitized to all the poop that goes on around here because it’s something that happens every day. Nathan poops. I change his diaper and clean up any spillage. I gag. And I repeat the cycle the next day.

But this poop? This poop will haunt me. This poop will be in my nightmares for a long, long time to come.

See, I had put Nathan in his play yard because I needed to get some things done, and because Nathan gets into EVERYTHING, there is absolutely no way whatsoever I can leave him unsupervised with free rein of the room.

Apparently, he pooped soon after I put him in his play yard.

And this poop could not be contained by the diaper. He was wearing a two-piece pajama set, and the poop ERUPTED out of the diaper and up his back.

And for the first time, he didn’t cry to let me know he needed a new diaper.

Instead, HE ROLLED AROUND IN IT.

HE.

ROLLED.

AROUND.

IN.

IT.

My husband got to Nathan first and, bless his wonderful heart, proceeded to start the PEELING process. You know, the act of PEELING all that poop off of Nathan that had EMBEDDED ITSELF into his skin from him rolling around in it.

I walked in to help, and I was about KNOCKED OFF MY FEET by the smell.

Oh that smell. The smell of a thousand sewers mixed into one giant vat of Pure Stink. It was so noxious that I FELT MY EYEBROWS SINGE just a little. The smell was so foul that it seemed to SOLIDIFY in the air. As I walked to the changing table to help Paul, I envisioned these minuscule Poop Smell Particles floating around, invading my nostrils and covering my skin.

It smelled… thick.

I tried not to breathe.

It didn’t work. I had to breathe, so I put my shirt over my nose and mouth… but the smell still managed to penetrate my meager defenses.   

There was poop all over Nathan. ALL OVER HIM. It was on his arms, his legs, his ankles, his stomach, his back, and even UNDER HIS FINGERNAILS. But that was nothing compared to what lurked in his play yard.

The play yard was GROUND ZERO.

A POOP CATASTROPHE.

A calamity of unsurpassed proportions.

There was poop on every single one of his stuffed animals. It coated every single one of his toys. It was smeared all over the floor of the play yard and a dull brown sheen coated his book and all its pages. It was even ENMESHED in the mesh-sides of the play yard.

EN-FREAKING-MESHED in it.

It was like a bomb filled with poop had exploded in the play yard, and globs of poop were strewn about all over the place.

My so-very-awesome husband cleaned and sanitized the entire play yard, all Nathan’s toys, and the changing table, which took over half an hour. (Seriously, could I have possibly ever married any one else even half as wonderful as this man? I don’t think so!) This poopage was monumental.

MONUMENTAL, FOLKS.

If only there was a diaper out there that could contain Nathan’s poops… but I don’t think they make anything strong enough.

Nathan needs INDUSTRIAL-STRENGTH diapers.

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