My poor, sweet baby boy is sick. It started Tuesday morning. He woke up with poop in his hair. It seems that diapers just aren't made to contain diarrhea. So I hosed him down, bathed him twice, and hoped it was just a fluke. No, no such thing. The washing machine has been going constantly. At one point he had to sleep on a girly crib sheet. It's neutral, but certainly more girly than manly. He hasn't had any fever, has continued to eat and drink like normal (except for one night), and isn't fussy. From all angles, he's not sick, until his bottom explodes, and we head for the tub once again.I've been dressing him in trash clothes, simply because I know they won't stay clean long. I've never been too fond of this shirt. It's black and orange. Those colors only work together on Halloween. To be honest, I hate it. That is until today. We went outside to get some fresh air. (I'm suffocating from all the Lysol.) He saw a ball across the yard, and went straight for it. That's when I realized how cute his shirt matched the ball. I guess the black/orange combo does have its place beyond Halloween.
A playing peek-a-boo with me
