adventures in parenting, take one.

It's 450 am, everyone is fast asleep. Periodically baby girl squirms and grunts and dad lightly snores.

Cue high pitched screaming noise from baby. Parents wake in panic, turning every single light in the room in the process. Mom grabs baby from bassinet and holds her upright.

Baby seems to be out of it, but fine. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

Time for a diaper change and feeding now that she's up...three minutes later...

Dad grabs the diaper-changing stuff, puts baby girl on waterproof pad, the unzips cute gray and like green zebra sleeper with ruffles on the butt. He un-fastens the tabs, folds the diaper under and begins wiping. There's a little passing of gas, followed by projectile poop! It's everywhere--all over the waterproof pad, the floor, the bedspread and the dad! Pandemonium ensues as parents try to manage the still-flying stream of poop and clean the affected areas.

Throughout it all, baby girl smiles, coos and looks cute.

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I told her she didn't need to do all this to get us to feed her--some simple fussing would suffice. :)

This is the second projectile poop of the day. Apparently we need to rethink our diaper changing strategy?!

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Also, earlier this week (and don't worry this one doesn't involve poop!) Matt was holding her while I got ready to feed (I have to pump before I feed). She was squirming a little and flailing her arms, hitting him in the face/chin.

Matt said "c'mon, punch me!"

Cleona stayed still.

Again--"c'mon, punch me!"

She gently lifted her arms like she was conducting and orchestra.

A third time, still nada. I said "check out this kid, not punching you when you ask. She has such timing!"

And this is when she punched him in the face.