Mitchell's Pampers Procurement

Liam had long since accepted that Mitchell was not just a toddler, but a force of nature. A biological weapon disguised as an adorable 18-month-old with a mission to destroy every single Pamper in existence.

The morning began like any other in their household of chaos. Mitchell stood by his cubby, shirt slightly askew, current Pampers already telling a story of epic proportions. The diaper sagged with the weight of his morning's... accomplishments. A complex bouquet of recent meals and pure infant audacity.

Liam's fingers flew across the keyboard, placing an industrial-sized order. 350 Pampers. Not a number chosen lightly. This was a strategic procurement, a preparation for Mitchell's ongoing digestive warfare.

As the order confirmed, Mitchell peered into his cubby. His face scrunched—that telltale look of concentrated effort. Another massive poop arrived. The already-compromised Pampers expanded, strained, threatened total structural failure.

Liam approached, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He leaned in close, right into Mitchell's personal space. A thunderous fart erupted—directly into Mitchell's face. A declaration of toddler dominance. A biological hello.

"You're gonna poop up every single one of these new Pampers like a big boy," Liam laughed, his voice a mix of pride and pure, unadulterated horror.

Mitchell stood there. Completely unbothered. Another poop brewing in his already compromised diaper. Eyes gleaming with the promise of destruction.

350 fresh Pampers. An arsenal waiting to be deployed.

Mitchell smiled.

Mission accepted.