Bouncing Means Ups and Downs

After the astounding success of letting E have a go in Henry's door bouncer the other week when we made a visit to see little Henners and Auntie Rachel, the Husband and I decided that the time was ripe for E to have a door bouncer of his own. After all, he can hold his head up with reasonable skill now, and he certainly likes to spend time in a standing position. Why not?

Well, on the surface, there was no reason why not. Ethan enjoyed time in the door bouncer, we could find one online for cheap, it was easy to set up (I did it all on my own while bogged down with some suspicious lurgy today), and there's no shortage of door frames in our house in which to position said bouncer.

good times abound

But, wait! What's that squelchy sound that fills my heart with dread? That wet percussive noise that can only be the harbinger of bad news...oh yeah: clad in an unhelpfully leak-prone disposable rather than his sturdy BumGenius nappies, Ethan decided to let rip with a torrential wave of the most disgusting yellow bum-mud. Normally, this only sounds disgusting. This time, it managed to leak all up his back and down his leg onto the muslin I'd placed on the floor as a precautionary measure.

Oh, and when I say all up his back, I mean it. I was wiping baby poop off this boy's shoulders before I ran a small bath in our kitchen sink. His onesie was covered in the sort of yellow sandy wetness that usually accompanies a run on the Grim Challenge course in Aldershot. It seems the pressure of a door bouncer harness and a pooped-in disposable just aren't the most trustworthy of combinations. Perhaps now that we're clean, we'll get a cloth nappy on and give this whole thing another go...

now the possessor of a freshly hand-cleaned baby butt