Explosions

I had, until this point been, what some people would call, lucky.

In twenty-one months of motherhood, I had never, ever had to deal with exploding diapers. I've had it get on clothes occasionally. But nothing that required complete strip downs and dunks in the tub and kitchen floors full of who knows what and . . . well, I won't get into it all, but . . .

. . . my twenty-month stretch has officially come to an end with one little Elijah. It's been an interesting few days but an especially interesting morning.

Thank goodness for plastic pants, a washing machine, wipes, an abundance of diapers, and not being by myself.
And thank goodness that other than the exploding going on, he seems to be feeling completely himself.

I'll refrain from keeping you all posted on this adventure.