My son has broken my trust. It all started last week when he not once, but twice, assured me he was done pooping and then let loose explosive poops during his diaper change, splattering his closet door and everything in its path. Then he told me he thought he needed some more food which he then projectile spit up onto his Grandpa Blum's bag and the floor. You would have thought I would have learned, but no. Last night when I got up with him around 3AM he told me again he thought he needed some more food. Where did that food end up? In my hair. Yep. I'll never trust you again scooter. Never.
I can't even be mad at him because he's so darn cute and was an amazingly good and sweet baby at the wedding reception he attended last Saturday. He dealt beautifully with hours of people he didn't know talking to him, holding him, prodding him and lots of cheering and music. He held it together until the very end of the party when he finally started fussing from sheer exhaustion. We were very proud of our little man, not to mention he looked ADORABLE.
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