The Hot Potato

I've been having some problems with Murphy's Law lately. So I should have known that LO's breakfast this morning was likely to end up biting me in the ass, so to speak.

Lately, the child has been refusing to eat healthy foods. According to LO, Cereal bars="GOOOOOD!" (despite the high sugar content that concerns his mama) and bananas="BAAAAAAAAD! I throw you on the FLOOR!"

So this morning, I had the idea to give LO some raisins and a couple of prunes for breakfast. I even joked with J that I would be loading the child up and sending him off to daycare for them to deal with the diaper fallout.

Why do I tempt the diaper gods thusly?

When I picked up the child, there was a definite eau de nasty clinging to him. Then I noticed that his pants were, um, squishy. This was clearly going to be a diaper change of epic proportions.

As I started the process of stripping the child out of his clothes and then burning them, the nice ladies at daycare apologized for not realizing he needed to be changed. And I don't not believe them that his explosion of disgusting went unnoticed by them. But I know that if it were me, I'd be busily keeping one eye on the clock while pinching my nose shut and waiting for the person ultimately responsible for the child's, um, offerings to take care of said offerings. Perhaps that's just responsibility-shirking me. (Note--I love our day care. I don't really believe that they're diaper irresponsible!)

Perhaps for next time I can arrange for someone else to be holding LO about four hours after I feed him prunes.