poo storm

I just had one of those moments that most parents have probably experienced: the terrible moment when you realize that your child has pulled a Trail of Poo on you. For those of you without kids, or for whom the Trail of Poo is a distant memory, it goes a little like this: You pick your child up and notice that he or she smells bad. This is nothing out of the ordinary: we have long ago come to terms with the reality of wiping excrement off the butt of another human being. You are a pro. You heave the child up to your chest, bring him/her to the changing table, and strip off the pants. It looks like a big one, but again: you're a pro, right? Then you see that the poo has escaped the diaper (mounting alarm). Shortly afterwards, you see that it has escaped into the onesy (flustered searching for a second box of wipes). Next, things happen in rapid succession, and you're not a pro anymore, you're a first-day-home -from-the-hospital newbie again. There is crap on the OUTSIDE of the onesy. There is crap on the outside of the shirt. You look down: there is a big dab of poo on the front of your shirt. And look! There's some on your arm. The next steps are hardly worth discussing except to note that it involves shrieking, a bath, lots of wipes, a laundry session, and industrial cleaning solutions.