What a difference.

Baby Sam gets naked, does a big poop in his cot and he has a great time painting the walls with his new found art supplies. I am alerted by happy giggles and squeals.

Baby Bea gets naked (or more likely, is undressed by pesky big brother), does a big poop in her cot, and I am alerted by a terrible shrill wail and squealings. I run into her room and find her backed right into a corner, in great distress, shaking and pointing at the steaming pile of turd at the other end of her bed. I honestly thought she had really hurt herself and somehow maybe got trapped in the crib bars or something when I heard the commotion.

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