I have posted some pictures below of Will enjoying the rice cereal and squash. Below those are other photos we have taken recently, since we haven't posted any in a while. Enjoy fellow FOW's (Fans of William)!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Real Food?
Over the last two weeks, Will has begun his journey into what the doctor calls solid food. I don't understand how squash puree can be called solid food, but I didn't go to medical school. It looks like a pumpkin exploded into a child size cup. But, Mommy and I are not the target audience for this food, and Will seems to really enjoy it. On week one we gave him whole grain rice cereal (see post below for results) and we are almost finished with week two's journey through the squash patch. Sunday will begin a study in how to clean mushed apples out of a baby's hair.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Will, What's that in your hair?
A few weeks ago, during an afternoon play session, I had set Will in a Bumbo for a little time for Dad to write a few e-mails. If you are unaware of the Bumbo product, it is a plastic seat that holds a child in an upright position so that they can develop back muscles and also play sitting up. It also provides them an aerial view of their toes that Will just loves.
Will loves to play in his Bumbo and on this occasion was dutifully inspecting a Baby Einstein Caterpillar rattle with the inside of his mouth. He would quietly examine the bug, then fiercely shove it into his mouth and gnaw on it like a starved lion. It is quite entertaining to watch as a parent.
As Will was actively engaged in his oral dismantling of a child's toy, it hit me. Literally, a noxious odor penetrated every cilia of my nostrils. I knew this smell, but couldn't quite place it. It was at this point that I turned around to jokingly ask Will if he knew what the smell was. Then it happened.
I am sure parents are supposed to be trained for this kind of thing. There should be a calm reaction, a sense of purpose during this moment...but not for this parent. My survival instincts took over. I knew what this was. I had heard about this, but I thought it only happened to other peoples kid's. No, this was it, Will had poopie in his hair.
Now, I am not a physicist by any means, but it goes against everything I know about gravity to believe that the poop had somehow climbed up his back and reached his head. I simply was unaware of it's vine-like ability to engulf an entire child.
I acted quickly. Jumping from the chair, I removed Will from the Bumbo by placing my hands under his arms, careful to avoid any visible traces of the recent explosion. I pointed my nose downwind, held the baby at full arms length, and made a dash for nursery. I looked like Barry Sanders heading toward the end zone. I was spinning around chairs, side stepping laundry, and I may have had to stiff arm a lamp. All with a child giggling at the events. Still at arms length, I laid him on the changing table. Finally, the explosion and I would meet face to face.
As I laid Will down on the changing pad, I took a millisecond to assess the situation. It was bad. It had clearly soaked the the onesie and the pants. I would have to start a small fire and burn them, or contact whichever federal authority dealt with nuclear waste. I didn't think our washing machine could handle this. I started to remove the clothing only to realize that in my haste, I was making the problem worse. At this juncture, it was like I was a child who was finger-painting. I was spreading it everywhere. It was on the changing pad cover, the clothes, the cabinet, the baby, and worst of all...it was on me.
Finally, the clothes were peeled off and placed safely in a hazardous materials container (or on the floor) and I had made it down to the diaper, or what used to be the diaper. I turned my head away, took a deep breath, turned back around and started to unlatch the diaper. It was a bad sign that the cute little Elmo on the front was covered in poop and had turned from his adorable red into more of an amber hue.
There was no white space left on this diaper. I asked Will what he had eaten, but I knew. This is what whole grain rice cereal does to babies. Will had the cleanest colon in the city. Meanwhile, he had the dirtiest exterior I had ever seen. I ended up using two other diapers to contain the mess and wrap up the soiled Elmo Diaper. I placed it gingerly in the Diaper Genie, hoping the plastic on the sides of the disposal unit wouldn't start to melt. After a tub of wipes was used, I felt he was clean enough to finally take a bath.
This is where my bravery shone through. I knew what had to be done. I swept up Will, poop and all into, my arms. My shirt would likely never be worn again. We marched into the bathroom, I turned on the faucet of the tub, plopped him down and proceeded to scrub every inch of my 5 month old with a diligence I have never possessed. I got in the crannies and nooks, crevices and cracks. Mr. Clean himself could not have done more scrubbing.
As I set Will on the towel to dry him off, he smiled and giggled. Apparently, this is just the most fun he has had in a while. I get a new diaper on him, and a new onesie and some pants. And the whole time he giggled. It is amazing that one little giggle can make you forget all the cleaning you just did for your little child. And I can really only think one thing...Dad needs a shower.
Will loves to play in his Bumbo and on this occasion was dutifully inspecting a Baby Einstein Caterpillar rattle with the inside of his mouth. He would quietly examine the bug, then fiercely shove it into his mouth and gnaw on it like a starved lion. It is quite entertaining to watch as a parent.
As Will was actively engaged in his oral dismantling of a child's toy, it hit me. Literally, a noxious odor penetrated every cilia of my nostrils. I knew this smell, but couldn't quite place it. It was at this point that I turned around to jokingly ask Will if he knew what the smell was. Then it happened.
I am sure parents are supposed to be trained for this kind of thing. There should be a calm reaction, a sense of purpose during this moment...but not for this parent. My survival instincts took over. I knew what this was. I had heard about this, but I thought it only happened to other peoples kid's. No, this was it, Will had poopie in his hair.
Now, I am not a physicist by any means, but it goes against everything I know about gravity to believe that the poop had somehow climbed up his back and reached his head. I simply was unaware of it's vine-like ability to engulf an entire child.
I acted quickly. Jumping from the chair, I removed Will from the Bumbo by placing my hands under his arms, careful to avoid any visible traces of the recent explosion. I pointed my nose downwind, held the baby at full arms length, and made a dash for nursery. I looked like Barry Sanders heading toward the end zone. I was spinning around chairs, side stepping laundry, and I may have had to stiff arm a lamp. All with a child giggling at the events. Still at arms length, I laid him on the changing table. Finally, the explosion and I would meet face to face.
As I laid Will down on the changing pad, I took a millisecond to assess the situation. It was bad. It had clearly soaked the the onesie and the pants. I would have to start a small fire and burn them, or contact whichever federal authority dealt with nuclear waste. I didn't think our washing machine could handle this. I started to remove the clothing only to realize that in my haste, I was making the problem worse. At this juncture, it was like I was a child who was finger-painting. I was spreading it everywhere. It was on the changing pad cover, the clothes, the cabinet, the baby, and worst of all...it was on me.
Finally, the clothes were peeled off and placed safely in a hazardous materials container (or on the floor) and I had made it down to the diaper, or what used to be the diaper. I turned my head away, took a deep breath, turned back around and started to unlatch the diaper. It was a bad sign that the cute little Elmo on the front was covered in poop and had turned from his adorable red into more of an amber hue.
There was no white space left on this diaper. I asked Will what he had eaten, but I knew. This is what whole grain rice cereal does to babies. Will had the cleanest colon in the city. Meanwhile, he had the dirtiest exterior I had ever seen. I ended up using two other diapers to contain the mess and wrap up the soiled Elmo Diaper. I placed it gingerly in the Diaper Genie, hoping the plastic on the sides of the disposal unit wouldn't start to melt. After a tub of wipes was used, I felt he was clean enough to finally take a bath.
This is where my bravery shone through. I knew what had to be done. I swept up Will, poop and all into, my arms. My shirt would likely never be worn again. We marched into the bathroom, I turned on the faucet of the tub, plopped him down and proceeded to scrub every inch of my 5 month old with a diligence I have never possessed. I got in the crannies and nooks, crevices and cracks. Mr. Clean himself could not have done more scrubbing.
As I set Will on the towel to dry him off, he smiled and giggled. Apparently, this is just the most fun he has had in a while. I get a new diaper on him, and a new onesie and some pants. And the whole time he giggled. It is amazing that one little giggle can make you forget all the cleaning you just did for your little child. And I can really only think one thing...Dad needs a shower.
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