"Yack-A-Doodle Dandy" or My Diaper Runneth Over

I extend my deepest apologies ahead of time to those of you with weak stomachs for the content of this post... read at your own risk...

This picture was taken Wednesday night- Noah was popping out from under the recliner and making his Dad laugh.  Noah was particularly enjoying this little game as he loves to bounce.  A little later that evening, we were playing another game he loves- We raise him up over our heads as he smiles and say "Big Boy!"  His smiles are adorable.  

As many of you already know, our son has always been prone to spit-up... in large amounts- numerous time throughout each day.  In fact, when Noah's great grandmother (Nana Joan) came to visit him at only a month old he christened her with, I am certain, a bottle full of spit-up.. soaking the entire front of her shirt.  She now brings a change of clothes when she comes to visit.  

As I was saying, I was gleefully holding him up over my head calling him a big boy when he promptly, without warning, spewed... all over my face... and in my mouth.  Scott let me know he would not be kissing me goodnight as I jumped in the shower for the second time that night.

Life goes on and last night we were invited to dinner with our friends Ben, Amanda, and Harper- otherwise known as the Litigator, the Lactator, and the Bug.  They are the ones to be credited with the discovery of the Poopsmith Song, which coincidentally, would have been appropriately used last night.  The six of us went to La Bamba, where Noah sat in a restaurant high chair for the very first time.  We were so proud!  As we dined on enchiladas, refried beans, and two pitchers of Sangria, Noah happily sat and chewed on his little blue sunglasses. 

I should take a moment to state that Noah had been constipated all day, so I fed him prunes with lunch to alleviate the ailment.  I did not think much of it as I have fed him prunes in the past with no incident.  Prior to leaving for dinner Noah spit up, as usual, but it was brown- no doubt tinged with the color of the prunes.  No worries- we changed him and went on our way.

I turned from my glass of Sangria to check on our little one, who still sat happily, chewing on his little blue sunglasses which were now colored brown...  Had he spit up again?  Did he manage to get into the refried beans?  Oh, no, not our son... Of course it should not be so simple.  I took the sunglasses from his chubby little hands and inspected, I peered down to the platform on which he was seated- a massive pile surrounded him.  Scott and I promptly picked up both ends of the highchair and walked it, with Noah still seated, outside.  As I wiped down his legs, hands, and face, and changed his clothes, Scott scooped and scrubbed the highchair with Clorox wipes from our trusty diaper bag- I don't think that highchair was ever that clean.  Noah, unfazed, smiled and laughed at Amanda who also remained calm throughout the entire debacle.  When all was said and done, and we were peacefully finishing our Sangria and fried ice cream, Amanda reassured me- Not to worry, at least it was organic.