puke

i think that there is some sort of poetic justice in the world. i'm just gonna come out and say it. i used to puke a lot when i was growing up. i really got some projectile distance, too. all of which my mom and dad dutifully cleaned up. over. and over. and over again.
my puking stories are legendary. my parents seem to bring them up every chance they get.

on that note, i was taking eli to the go cart place the other day. we had been planning a daddy son day for about a week and we were excited.
while he was eating lunch a little earlier he said a couple times that his stomach hurt a little but, after a trip to the potty, i thought he was fine.

as we were speeding down the interstate toward our go cart heaven i began to hear a noise coming from the backseat that was somewhat...familiar.

and there it was. all over the boy, backseat, carpet, etc. "that's my peanut butter and honey sandwich!," said the boy. and in that moment i suddenly felt that grand sense of fairness.

i got the child safely back home and into bed. he was a little wiped from the experience, having never done this before. and i knew that i had graduated to the next level of parenthood.

here's to promotion!