Viewer Discretion Advised.

Since we've brought Noah Finn home from the hospital there have been many times when we've laughed ourselves to tears, but yesterday marked the first time that we've laughed ourselves into hilarium--literally nearly wetting our pants.

It all occurred yesterday evening when I was on the phone with my parents. While talking with my dad, I heard Dean let out a shrieking cry from the direction of our bedroom. With my dad still on the line, I rushed down the hall and this is what I saw . . . Dean standing beside the changing table without a shirt on and wearing a look of sheer panic while simultaneously crying and laughing hysterically, a naked Noah Finn flailing on the changing table screaming bloody murder, poop splattered in drips across the changing pad cover and an even larger stream of the oozy brown stuff dripping down the wall behind the changing table forming pools on the top of the floorboards before flowing onto the wood floors below.

Chaos--a runny, smelly poo festering chaos and it was wreaking havoc all over our bedroom--our sanctuary, our retreat, our cozy, calm bedroom.

Dean blabbered an explanation while gasping for air in between bellowing laughs--he had apparently unwisely decided to pick up Noah Finn, who was screaming sans diaper, to comfort and soothe his weary cries. However, on his way up to daddy's cozy shoulder, in mid air, Noah simultaneously shot a stream of pee out the front--landing on daddy's shirt--and a stream of poop out the back--spraying on the changing pad cover and wall.

We caught our breath and the roaring laughter lowered to a giggle. And, as we dressed Noah and removed all evidence of Noah's free form wall art--with the sound of Miles, our cat, howling into the toilet bowl echoing in the background and dried poo on our hands--we thought to ourselves, this is our life now.

And we wouldn't give up a single stream of dried spit up on our fourth shirt of the day for anything in the whole wide world.

P.S. New pictures in our Flickr album!