I have mentioned before that Little E has a spitting up problem. He is a very good baby. This is my only complaint about this little guy. I have grown accustomed to the many outfit changes, on his part as well as mine.
Today, I am lame. Not in the I-drive-a-minivan way, but in the I-slammed-my knee-into-the-corner-of-the-booth-at-lunch-and-now-can't-bend-my-knee way. I grabbed Little E out of the crib and hobbled over to a clean pile of baby laundry. I needed to lean over and grab a bib. I balanced Little E on my hip and went in for the awkward bend over to grab a bib. As I was leaning over I heard the telltale sign that Little E was sending up a present for me. A loud, juicy burp. And there it was. All over. Little E threw up into the clean pile of laundry.
I suppressed the urge to shout out a four letter word. I guess I'll be rewashing that pile.
DANG! (Not the initial word I wanted to shout out)