Babies got bass. Ass bass.

I was holding my friend’s four month old baby, and he farted in my arms. I wasn’t a little cute squeaker of a baby toot. It was a full on adult-sized man fart. It was loud, long, bubbly, rumble-y, and it had bass. Booming bass. He made two of them. It was adorable and funny, but it stank like diarrhea. You think diarrhea from an adult is bad, wait until you smell it from a four month old baby.. the only thing they consume is breast milk. Digested milk poop = the dirtiest most disgusting poop smell on the planet. I didn’t mind the baby’s fart or its rancid aroma. I kept holding him and giggling while he wiggled in my arms. The key word here is wiggle. He wiggled so much that his florescent yellow/mustard/orange poo scooted up his diapers, up his backside and into my arms. INTO MY ARMS!!! I was essentially holding diarrhea with a baby on top. My eyes watered and I gagged a few times when I returned exploding-diarrhea-baby back to his mother. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to have children anymore.

It’s totally cute until he does it on you.