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Sunday, January 3, 2010

welcome, welcome, sabbath evening

So, we're currently driving my dad's "outfit," as they call personal motorized transportation 'round here. Our car is "in the shop," by which I mean "in the parking lot of Baugh Automotive," because of the cat-in-engine-fan-belt-detached-blood-everywhere-also-there's-an-oil-leak-would-you-take-a-look-at-that issue. Hey! Speaking of cats--Emily told me a story tonight! Her brother or cousin or something--not an important detail--got into his car one morning, and he had left the window down the night before. He's driving along and rolls up the window, and suddenly, WHAM! A cat jumps onto his face! It had snuck in through the open window. The cat's going snarl, hiss, rake-the-face, rake-the-face, and he's frantically trying to claw it off his head and rolls his car I think three times is what Emily said. Don't worry, he's fine now. Neat, huh? It's like the raccoon in the dumbwaiter that pounces on Shelley Long and starts chewing on her neck in The Money Pit.

But back to my more boring story: we were driving home from a family do this evening, and I heard Pinga make a coughing sound. "She's going to barf!" I cried, and grabbed the red disposable cup my dad had thoughtfully left in his cupholder. Boom under the chin it went, and we didn't get a single drop of vomit on my dad's upholstery. I knew she was brewing up a hurl because she sat quietly on my lap and snugged me for about ten minutes tonight--such uncharacteristic behavior is a dead giveaway.

I was going to go have lunch at Gourmandise tomorrow afternoon with a friend, but instead I think I'll stay home and do barf laundry. It'll be a good way to get back into my role as a parent instead of a codependent self-destructive behavior enabler.

3 comments:

Jill said...

wow...good barf catching skills. As a fellow barf catcher, I appreciate a well caught barf.

Bamamoma said...

Excellent work!
I spent part of my morning (after shaving Phil's head) cleaning poop out of the bathtub. She acts like, "where did that come from? get me out of here, that is so gross!" Indeed.

Back to reality fersure.

Sarah said...

Man, way to be in tune with your daughter's pre-barf language.

Methinks that everyone probably had a delightful drive home last night. You know, as an appropriate "farwell to the holidays." No barf for us, just screaming/feeding/pooping/screaming. Good times.