Sunday, November 15, 2009

Front Toward Enemy - The Grand Finale

I thought I was clever when I picked out my own shirt this morning. Daddy laid me on a pile of clean laundry and I came up with this one in my hands, the one that Uncle Matt got me. Pretty cool, huh? You don't often see a 10-month-old (well, almost) with a M18A1 Claymore Anti-personnel Mine on his shirt.

What Mommy didn't know was just how clever I really was. No sooner than our happy tribe had arrived at the furniture salvage store, my gut totally rejected the Chicken and Noodle I had for lunch, plus the avocado and goldfish and yogurt I had for a snack. It was totally gnarly - yellow projectile vomit was flying everywhere, on the car and mom's foot and all over the parking lot. I thought it was at least pretty polite that I waited until we were out of the car, y'know?

Dean was with us, but Daddy wouldn't let him help clean it up. He said something about "embarrasing" but I don't know what that means. Anyway. There's plenty more where that came from.

Rock on, little readers. And remember this excerpt from life's little instruction book: Front Toward Enemy!

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