First off – and this is key – ensure your infant son hasn’t pooped in five days.
Five.
Days.
Then just head to a wedding, letting your offspring, with his tiny baby ears, overhear you say that your shirt could really use a solid dry clean.
He will immediately lose his shit (literally) over your friend’s karaoke tribute of Still Dre, and unleash five days of poo out of his butt.
He’s so sweet.
Representin’ for the gangsters all across the world, because they were tied up and couldn’t be with us here today.