The Monstrous 2am Poo Explosion
I didn’t pack spare pyjamas. I didn’t pack a spare sleeping bag. I didn’t pack a spare cot sheet.
Baby S started whining at 2am. I decided to get him in with us for a quick Christmas snuggle, but realised he was moist and smelt like a nightmare.
I asked my husband, P, to give him a cwtch while I prepped the changing station.
I was ready.
I took Baby S from P and popped the light on. I saw the real damage. It was like something from Trainspotting. I decided I didn’t want to do it. No, sir. Not for me. I’ll pass on that gag-worthy atrocity if I can get away with it.
I said, “Um… P? I may need a snipsy bit of help.”
He came over and got straight to business. It was a full-on, hose-down-in-the-shower clean up operation. Both child and all materials.
I decided my job was to A) not go near the poo, but B) find some passable spare pyjamas and bedding from around my mum’s house.
I’ve popped two onesies on him…. Googled it to make sure he won’t die from wearing two onesies. He won’t die. We’re good.
I figured that the extra onesie will act as a sleeping-bag-replacement. Googled what tog a standard onesie is, but Google wasn’t quite sure. I’m going to guess… 0.5??! Come on Google, don’t leave me to figure out onesie togs by myself! My baby’s life is in the balance here.
I’ve used my toddler’s duvet cover as a bed sheet. Googled, ‘Is it OK for my toddler to sleep under a duvet without a cover on?’ He won’t die. We’re good.
How lucky we are to have somewhere warm and safe for my boys to sleep! I really need to stop overthinking the tog situation.
And now… after a lot of stupid Googling, I’m writing this! As all the boys sleep peacefully in their absolutely-fine, temporary makeshift bedding!
I need to sleep! Christmas is starting in… 2 hours!