Owen had a rough weekend. He was cranky, which isn't too unusual. The little guy is starting to understand his world and gets frustrated when things don't go his way. But he was extra cranky this weekend. I think it might have been constipation, since neither his father nor I had the pleasure of changing a poopy diaper for over a day.
Actual text message from my husband this morning: Owen pooped. A lot.
My actual response: Thank god! He might feel lots better now.
I'm not quite sure when we crossed that line - you know, the one that divides our lives into "the years we don't write about poo" and "the years that it's okay to write about poo." I'm a little distressed to discover that I not only find it appropriate to talk about poo so casually, but I do so with glee. Owen pooped!
1 comment:
Ian told me that zoe also had a great pooping experience this weekend. My nieces and nephew are chock full (pardon the pun) of great poop stories.
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