Poor Baby.

Poor baby boy woke up sick this morning. He was running a slight fever and had thrown up on the blanket in his crib. But slept from 7:30pm-8:30am and seemed very happy to be up and crawling around, so we decided to brave it and go to church thinking he was probably feeling better. He did great through Sacrament meeting. He was happy, smiling, playing with the hymn book, flirting with all the ladies, and content to just sit on the ground and gnaw on his shoe laces. But after Sacrament meeting I had this feeling that we should head home. I hate asking Miles to leave church before the meetings are over. Even when Caiden has just about had it I still tough it out so that Miles can get to all 3 meetings while Caiden and I hang out in the foyer or he takes a nap on my lap in the mother's lounge. But today I just had this nagging feeling that we should get home. And thank heavens we did, because no sooner than we put him in some comfy's that this happened:

It is literally the grossest thing that I have been through. That picture doesn't even show the magnitude of gross. It was in his hair, up his back, all over his arms, in between his fingers, in his belly button, down his legs (you get the picture). We cleaned him up as best we could and threw him in the bathtub. All we could do was laugh about the situation. Our house went from smelling like delicious pot roast to nasty poo in a matter of 10 seconds. But here's the thing about my little man... he's the happiest baby I have ever met. His tummy had to have been hurting, he has clearly caught some sort of flu bug that has given him the slight fever, the throw up, and the messy poo. He had to feel crummy and miserable. But despite all that he was smiling and jabbering, splashing in the bathtub, crawling all over the place, happily watching Baby Einstein, giving us hugs and kisses, and totally and completely pleasant. I am blessed beyond measure to be the momma of such a sweet and happy boy that is continually teaching me to always smile.