baby terrorist.

Baby terrorist with evidence of puke-bombing on his pants.
Satisfied with his work.

Yeah, that's right. 

Apparently, Jameson has decided to let the world know that he hates mom, and has targeted me for his baby puke bombs that he drops at random.

It doesn't matter how long it's been since he's eaten, or how many burps he's just done, or how nicely I am cooing at him--BAM!

Puke bomb on mom's shoulder.

Even Hubs has admitted that he is definitely targeting me, but also says that I need to learn better burp-cloth technique.

Whatever. 

This means war, baby terrorist.

Plotting his next puke-bomb attack.