Before we go any further...
Moms totally get this. Poop explosions. How does such a tiny little body hold so much poop?! When I was a baby, my parents couldn't leave the house without at least two changes of clothes for me. And I'm not just talking about tops and bottoms, they had to bring extra shoes and socks, too. Because without fail, as soon as we'd leave the house, there would be a number 3 that would fill every nook and cranny within 5 yards of my little butt. The stories are legendary and many. And although I can't prove it, I believe that my mom wished upon me a child who would do the same thing.
She got her wish.
My daughter was a butt explosion waiting to happen, preferably at the most inopportune time. Waiting in line for a picture with Santa? Check. Mommy just used the last diaper while out running errands? Check. In the middle of a diaper change when her legs were pulled up in the air? Check. Don't think that I didn't pass along a mother's wish to my daughter. Yeah.
So, what number 3 stories do you have to tell? Feel free to put them in the comment section. Or better yet, blog about it and link it up to my blog carnival below! And don't forget to link back here, huh? Don't make me wish number 3's on you.