I am firmly convinced that there is no other sound in this world that parents fear more than that of 200 mph vomit hitting the carpet at 4am. Such was the case last night (or this morning for you sticklers) with our baby girl Rowan. It doesn't matter what time of night it is or if you are sound asleep or dozing; the sound levitates you out of bed quicker than Crisco on a Slip n Slide. Rowan, like the sweet, well-mannered child she is even waited until she'd gotten out of bed, padded into Mom and Dad's room and climbed up on the blanket chest at the foot of our bed. Then in an Oscar worthy performance, opened her mouth and in a brilliant technicolor yawn baptized the new comforter on the bed.
Now, where to find the silver lining here? I guess I should be thankful that she didn't leave a trail down the hall or throw up on her sister. She didn't even cry or whimper. Thus, our evening of solitude and rest had come to an end as several more similar incidents followed.
We went to my parent's house for Christmas a few weeks ago and on the way home (about 20 min. in to the trip) Karch expressed himself into an empty Taco Bell bag in the car. We had to pull off the highway to the abandoned "Dingus McGees" restaurant (I wonder who approves local business names and actually issues them a liquor license when they have clearly demonstrated questionable judgement at naming their establishment) and let him finish outside where he was immediately surrounded by the indigenous wildlife that came to see what all of the fuss was about. He should have received an award for barfing on a squirrel from about 2 meters. We decided that the used Taco Bell bag would be happier if we left it with the squirrel as there were no trash-type receptacles visible so we left it there. After we pulled back onto the highway we saw it sitting alone, soggy and being investigated by possible Sasquatch offspring. We pointed our nose toward Reno and didn't look back or ask questions.
