Drool.

He's a drooler. He spits up nearly one third of what he eats. He stores up great caches in his bowels and then blows out his diapers and standers-by. We use a hairdryer to warm his bum after a change, and he urinates whimsically into the open air. Clothing has become a ridiculous social convention. We keep spit rags holstered at our sides for an easy draw. 'Freedom of fluids' is the alliterative mantra of the day.