Must Dig Worms

Picture it, a gorgeous 70's and sunny weekend full of walking through gardens, playing outside, planting our own garden, and riding bikes. Sure, Ash started the weekend off with a case of the sniffles and was leaking a gooey orange substance that caused multiple daily wardrobe changes, but he seemed happy and wasn't running a fever so we chalked it up to some seasonal allergies and a recent addiction to carrot juice. Then Sunday afternoon comes along and we wrap up our gardening with some delicious pre-nap pasta (read: mac n cheese), when Ash starts complaining that his mouth hurts. We're 105% sure that he's talking about a tiny spot on the inside of his cheek that he accidentally bit the night before while reenacting the love scene from Spiderman II (read: hanging upside down off of the art table convinced this was the best way to retrieve his wayward crayon), so again we didn't think much of it.

Then he started making these gagging sounds and we both start to get really annoyed that he seems to be coming up with every trick in the book just to avoid eating lunch and inevitably naptime. So, being the diligent observant and keenly aware parents that we are, we continue shoveling food into his mouth and he somewhat energylessly obliges to chew and swallow. This is followed by a rather meager attempt to get the words "all done" out of his mouth, but unfortunately somewhere after "all d" and just before "one" his lunch decided to defy gravity and set launch for mommy's shirt, pants, shoes, chair, and I'm pretty sure he even hit one of the cats. Turns out it wasn't the spot where he bit his cheek that hurt, and turns out the gagging noises were, well, a real life prelude to Barfalooza May '09.

So, (after we hosed ourselves down) he napped for about an hour in his bed, then on me for another hour and a half, then got absolutely anything and everything his little heart desired for the remainder of the day. You want ketchup on your apple slices? Sure. Another Popsicle for dinner? You bet! Your own floor-through garden apartment on W. 12th Street with built in underground garage? No worries, I'm sure I have a Nixon mask around here somewhere...

Perhaps Barfalooza isn't the right title for today's events, maybe something more along the lines of GuiltyHorribleMother-alooza May '09 would be more fitting. Yeah, that sounds about right. If I'm lucky he'll remember the moments from earlier today when I dug up extra worms for him to play with while digging holes for our tomato plants instead of the moment when I completely lost all sense of mommy intuition and force fed him into pukesville. Note to self: Must dig more worms.