I have many stories, but only one that I am so burning to tell you that I am leaving the laundry and ignoring the immediate needs of my family in order to share it with you. It isn't long and it isn't fancy, but it is definitely memorable. It also isn't for eating, so put down the sandwich. OK; here's what happens:
We eat entirely too much road food one late afternoon, somewhere in Ohio. We eat in the car, parked on the side of the road, as we are in a hurry to get to Cincinnati and our hotel. Super Toddler is conducting his own private eating contest; chowing down on burgers, onion rings, and one very rapidly disappearing strawberry shake. Super Baby and Super Preschooler are eating at a much more sedate speed in the middle seats. Awkward Dad is rhapsodizing about our upcoming aquarium trip, and I am monitoring everything from the front seat. That is when Super Toddler generates an unholy gagging sound from the way back of the car. I believe that I have mentioned the children's vomiting styles before, and Super Toddler, true to form, is all business. In a move that belies his years, Super Toddler calmly throws up a waterfall of pink shake, with a few burger and onion chunks, just like it is just a normal Saturday kegger at the Pi Kappa house. He never loses control of the flow, as it were, and everything lands in the perfect vessel of his lap, bowled by his criss-crossed legs. He finishes, coolly ponders his lap, and then glances at the onion ring in his right hand that he NEVER LET GO OF. He takes a bite of it and thoughtfully gazes back into my horrified face. I am staring at him from the front seat, stupefied by his nonchalance and thus unable to speak. He cocks his head to the left and continues to chew his onion ring, when he says, "Hey Mommy, I think I might need a wet wipe."
Future frat brother and President of the local stick gun NRA.
Stay tuned, Readers! We have got tales a'plenty to curl your toes and straighten your hair.
Same awkward time, same awkward channel!