michael makes me love him

Tonight after applying the Vicks Vape-o-Rub for babies, the Ambesol on squeamish gums, the vitamin E stick on chapped cheeks and nostrils, I dosed our tiniest man with a little cold medicine. So he can breathe people. Not to get him drunk or anything! And then he gagged a little. He spit up, and then barf was pouring in a thick, voluminous and silent fountain from little Ocho's font. I said, lean him forward Honey (and almost chuckled) BUT I DID NOT LAUGH. Michael was holding him, you see. Michael that likes to pretend to gag because it makes me a little ookey. Michael who talks about ants in our bed- when he knows I have a hard time spelling ant- let alone thinking about them sharing our covers. It was Michael's crotch I had to wipe off before he got up from the sofa, telling little Hen he was ok and asking me if he had barley for dinner. It was also Michael who- as he unzipped the light blue, bunny footed pj's (Henry was wearing for the last time- because we don't believe in binding feet) said over Henry's curly head- we should really take a picture.

After I took this he said- I suppose we can't shout this out. Hee.