So, here's the lesson I have learnt this week: do NOT put your baby in nappies that are too small!
I, by nature, am a penny-pinching miser when it comes to everyday items so I can splurge on luxeries. Therefore I buy own-brand nappies (he's going to crap in them! I don't need fancy ones!), own brand wipes (unless I have a coupon - 'nuff said) and very basic, generic baby clothes. We have to spend more than enough on his feeding supplies as he's tube fed with specialist formula, so I figured saving a few dollars on the mundane stuff is okay.
For this reason, when Owen grew out of his own-brand size one nappies a few weeks ago, I decided that I wanted to use up all the size ones we had before moving on to the size twos. Thing is, we still had two whole bags of them and he doesn't need changing that often. Heck, compared to when he was a newborn and needed up to ten or twelve changes a day, six times seems positively lazy! So, I perserved and kept using the teeny tiny ones on my growing boy. This has now backfired in the most spectactular way ...
My husband and I were shopping in the local supermarket on Sunday and had Owen tucked into his car seat on the trolley. He started to fuss and squirm a little, so I picked him up and laid him in my arms, with one hand supporting his bottom. I was therefore able to feel when he filled his nappy and I turned to my husband and said, "I think I know why he was fussy." I then turned Owen upright against my shoulder and noticed, to my interest, that he had had a VERY loose poop and it had started to come out of the top of the nappy at the back. This amused me so I looked at his t-shirt and shorts. Both had a little bit of mess on them. I look up at my husband to tell him to pass me the diaper bag and he had a look on his face which I can only describe as abject horror."Look at your jeans," he says. I do, and I notice several large drips running down my leg. My eye passes down to my foot, where I see yet more poop on my sandal and toes. I start to laugh.
My husband is now almost green as he points, wordless, at the floor. I then start laughing even harder because not only has Owen managed to cover both himself and his mother, but there is a large, long trail of baby poop now running the length of aisle 14. We look at the car seat, which is clean, but the groceries underneath have not escaped. I'm now laughing so hard my knees start to buckle, but my husband then comes out with, "The yams! It's all over the yams!" He says this over and over again, but only has the strength of character to point and can't quite bring himself to touch anything.
I finally manage to tell him to pass me the diaper bag and prepare to take Owen off and change him, but before I go, Mike panics and grabs the wipes from me, saying he has to clean up the mess. I point out that I will also need the wipes to clean Owen, which doesn't seem to have occured to him.
Anyway, the outcome was that we did get both baby and supermarket clean again, but every time I think about what hapened I just crack up. There was an older man standing near us at the time who must have also been a father and he found the whole thing hysterical too.
And we still haven't eaten the yams.
Lesson learnt! DO NOT dress your baby in nappies that are too small.