Pooberty

Today, my son took his first true steps!  (He had taken some "steps" before that might more appropriately be called "lunges," "trips," and "dives.")

In less monumental news, he also had another first today:  He pooped in the bathtub. 

He was in the tub because while I was feeding him he flung his arms at the spoon, creating tiny projectile portions of pureed peas everywhere.  I put him in the bath to clean him, and instead he pooped in there.  Kind of defeats the purpose, dude.

While he was napping I bleached the tub, cleaned the rest of the bathroom, and did some other chores around the house.  I woke Carter just in time to get him off to the babysitter's before work. 

I did not factor in the time that would be required for a costume change:  Carter had pooped through his diaper and onto his outfit.

After a quick change, I was off to work.  When I got home Jeffrey had just picked up Carter from the babysitter's house. 

And that's when we noticed an all-too-familiar smell coming from the back side of our little precious.  But it wasn't just in the diaper...no, he had just ruined outfit #2.

At that point Jeffrey and I looked at each other with exasperation, and I exclaimed, "Jeffrey, what in the world is wrong with our baby?  He's pooping on everything!"

Jeffrey looked back at me, with a look of admiration mixed with a little pride, and said, "He's becoming a man."

Pooberty really stinks.