If reading about puke and poop is not your thing today, stop reading now :). Otherwise let me tell you about the triple P.
P #1. It started out about 3:30 a.m. when I went to get Braden to eat and before getting to his crib I could smell the destruction that was coming from his diaper. Needless to say this comes with the territory, just funny/convenient it usually comes with momma's shift versus dad. No problem, we got cleaned up and headed downstairs to eat.
P #2. He was eating really well until about an ounce to go he put up the stop sign, aka tight lipped grimace and the hairy eyeball that says, "don't even think about it mom". I tried to wait it out for a few minutes when out of no where, a river (at least it seemed that way relative to his size) of milk came pouring out of his mouth, down his bib, down his outfit, and down my legs. At this point I qualified it as a puke which meant no more food and we headed back upstairs.
P#3. As I calmed him down and we walked upstairs I heard suspect noises coming from the southern hemisphere followed by that oh so familiar odor that usually meant there was more destruction to clean up. This one doubled the first P. So we got cleaned up, into a new outfit and back to bed.
Other times we just crash out together, as seen below, until daddy puts us both to bed.