Sunday, October 31, 2010

Max's First BYU Shirt

Subtitle: Or, The Day of the Naked Max, Part II.

Max does not believe in clothing.
I've known this since his birth. Practically.
He smiles when his clothes come off.
He frowns or screams when clothes are put on him.

[And don't even think about redressing him once he's found freedom.
You should have heard his pipes in the doctor's office the other day- he was smiling and happy and flirting with everyone there until the doctor shut the door and I started to put his clothes back on. It was like World War III... but I digress.]

The other day, Max had on the cutest outfit.
It was an elephant shirt with an elephant hoodie and matching brown pants.
I squealed over it for at least ten minutes.
Apparently... Max felt differently.

What does Max do when he doesn't like his clothes?
Yep. He poops.
Sunday, this caused some drama.
But when it happened on Friday, I was prepared.

After the bomb dropped, I whipped out my back-up.
I looked at the tag and it said "3 months" but I shrugged it off because it fit him last week.
I poised it over his head...

And I couldn't get it over his head.
He screamed.
I tugged.
He screamed.
I tugged.
He screamed.
I panicked.
I panicked because I had a naked baby on campus with no back-up.

So, I did what any ever-loving mama would do.
I swaddled him and raced down to the children's section to drop 10 big ones on a BYU shirt.
One sized for infants 2 months older than him, just in case.

When I got there, the salesperson said:
"If you want to wait, this will be 20% off tonight."
To which I said:
"I have a naked baby."
He looked at me like this didn't matter.
(Did I mention it was really cold?)
So I said:
"I have a naked baby who pooped out of all of clothes."
To which the salesperson (probably a 19-year-old boy?) scrunched his nose at up.
I don't blame him.
I probably would have done the same thing.

You better believe I bought that overpriced shirt right then and there.
Afterwards, we sprinted to the elevator and found a cozy alcove to plant ourselves in.
I picked Max out of his chair...
And found a freshly poopy diaper.
A big one.
So I did what any mom would do: rolled my eyes and changed it.

Time for the shirt!
I pulled it out and...
I tugged and I tugged.
Meaning, I could barely get it past his ears.
But I did!

You better believe he pooped again five minutes later.

And you better believe he rocked that BYU shirt for the rest of the afternoon.
Drool and all.