2 a.m. Clean-up

Sawyer is not a messy baby.

His diapers do a good job containing whatever he sends their way, even the cheap brands.
He does not spit up often and when he does, it's in small amounts.
He has only minor amounts of drool.
He can stay in an outfit for a couple days without soiling it.

However, last night, he was the messiest.

It's 2 am and he's fussing after a feeding. My husband, Chandler, and I are both awake and I take Sawyer back to bed with me for some hopefully soothing snuggles. Chandler plays a little with Sawyer, holding his hand and smiling at him.

Precious, right?

When Sawyer turns to me, I prepare to do the same thing when I'm interrupted by a...

volcanic eruption of vomit to my face. It seems like it goes on forever, it won't stop! It's in my hair, my eyes, on my shirt, and let's not even mention the state of my pillow. When the eruption finally ceases, I look though my now throw-up covered eyelashes to see a smiling little boy without a drop on him. It was like he had no idea that anything had just happened.

Who could stay mad at this?

Chandler, on the other hand, was very aware of what had just happened and laughed at me. He laughed at me, poor, puke-faced me who had just wanted to comfort my baby. He had the good sense to apologize for his laughter, but by that point I had accepted the bizarre reality of the situation and was laughing too.

Moral of the story: Babies are gross. But in a contradictory way, nothing could ever be cuter.