last post quite so soon.
Last night Audrey was up puking. I kind of had a feeling that it was coming. She wasn't interested in eating anything, which never happens. Especially when it's her favorite: spaghetti.
She told me she felt sick when I put her to bed, and I was so convinced that she was going to puke that I put a towel under her head. I went to bed right after her, figuring that I was in for a long night.
Sure enough, before I could even fall asleep I heard her letting out a few of her patented warning groans. By the time I got to her room, she was in full hurl. I flipped on the light and did my best to catch what I could with extra towels that I'd grabbed. Why is there always so much when it seems like they ate so little? Hopefully you are not reading this over breakfast. Oops.
Anyway, when she was in between rounds and finally realized that I was there, she looked up at me, with eyes at half-mast, looking like death warmed over, puke covering her hair, face, and nightgown, and said "I like your stripes, Mom".