Conquering the world, one bib at a time...

My son is a chucker.
A spectacular, monumental, volcanic vomiter. Mt Vesuvius, I like to call him. He rips through outfits with waves of hot clotted yoghurt, and recently has begun to follow up with a steady stream of clear spit. (Teething, everybody likes to say knowledgeably. Whatever.)

Consequently, we've been using up the few hand-me-down bibs in our possession faster than I can wash them. We had an excursion to a DFO on the weekend to see if we could find some bargain bibs, that weren't these piss-weak little newborn's spit-catchers and chin-cloths, and that didn't cost the earth. Oh, and that didn't have hideously ugly and naff graphics on them. (My preference was to find them at op-shops, but they are rarer than hen's teeth in my area, and those I found were pretty disgusting.)

We came home empty-handed and slightly disillusioned until it was suggested that I have a crack at making some, and miracle of miracles, I actually just got on with it there and then and whipped up TWO! As I whirred away on the sewing machine, I mentally built a reclaimed fabric bib empire, complete with minions, a bald cat to sit on my lap and a good stock of evil mwahaha-has.


So, here are my two steps towards world domination. Only prototypes, as I discovered on putting onto my lad that they are just a wee bit broad and long, although through the course of an evening wearing one he still managed to saturate it while remaining fairly dry beneath. Which I think may be a marker of success.