Week two of the Benevolent Dictator's term ...

And things continue to be a learning experience of amusing proportions.

For example, I've learned a lot about poop. Most mothers do, I think. But I don't know if all mothers have had their daughters projectile poop on them.

Yes. I said projectile poop. On me.

It occurred yesterday as I was changing a dirty diaper. Her legs were up in the position one takes when one's bottom is being wiped by a larger being. That position reminds me of being a trussed-up turkey with the legs tied back. All of the sudden, a stream of yellow,mustardy poo (which according to the baby books is what you want from a child who's breastfeeding) shot out of her and onto my right hand, which was wiping her bottom.

There's two reactions you can have to this -- either shock and horror or you start getting amusement about the whole situation. Fortunately, I was amused, despite being slightly horrified. It took awhile to clean my hand up, then her, then the changing table, then remove theonsie which she was just wearing (a brand new one since she got a bath the night before), put on a clean new diaper, put on a new onsie as she screamed bloody murder about the injustice of having cloth go over her head and ears, and then put her in the crib so I could wash my hands.

Jeff doesn't believe me, but when we finally resumed feeding, I swear, she had a perverse look in her eyes that said "Gotcha!"