The boy of my dreams

He is finally here, the little boy of my dreams. He is absolutely perfect, hairy like a little monkey and farts like an onion infused caveman. The way I like them.

Yesterday he made me very proud by pooping right in to the hands of my husband. I was just thinking to myself, “wow, that’s brave” when my husband undressed him and carried him around naked while I prepared the little bath. First, an innocent fart followed by an “oops” and then he pooped all over my husband who tried to save the situation by holding his hand around babies little butt. The look on someone’s face, when you have your hands covered and full of shit, is priceless. And you just don’t know where to start to save the situation. And it’s so, so painful to laugh when you’ve had a cesarean. But worth it.

42 Replies to “The boy of my dreams”

  1. Yay! Priceless! I consider if it wasn’t your sons first poo he had a lucky escape? Those are diabolical! I remember you youngest sisters! My mum shared the view with me. Lesson learnt! great news! Cheers,H

    Like

  2. When I didn’t see you for a while, I figured you must’ve finally had the little bub. Congratulations! And, oh boy. What a mess. Hilarious. Poor husband. I hope you have some fat maternity leave and are getting some sleep.

    Like

      1. For whatever reason, your blog’s not letting me comment on your latest post. I keep getting an error message. So, anyway, I wanted to say, essentially: Thinking about what to do if the car flips over is sound logic. Parents who have cars like that must not love their kids.
        Great to have you back!

        Like

  3. Stort grattis! Underbart!
    Och dessutom en roligt liten historia.
    Du lyckades hålla dig över 1 april, det lyckades inte jag med för 34 år sedan då mitt lilla “aprilskämt” föddes!

    Like

Leave a Reply to anne leueen Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s