My baby's no longer a baby.
Cue the trumpets! Release the doves!
I knew someday it would happen. And, in the only way that really matters, K turned into a big girl over the weekend.
Our house was hit by a plague-like virus late, late Friday night. I think it was Newton who said, what goes up must come down. Our plague was the opposite. For a good, solid 12 hours, K and I both vomited every bit of liquid and solid we dare put in our body. I had Indian food for dinner Friday night. Let me fill you in on a little lesson I learned...if you think there's a chance you may become deathly ill, don't pick Palak Paneer and shrimp Vindaloo as your last meal.
Pray tell, you ask, what does your grim story of vomit have to do with little K growing up?
In those 12 hours, K vomited half a dozen times. And do you know how many sets of sheets had to be washed? Blankets? Pajamas? Rugs? Heads of hair? Zero. That's right, zero.
Cue chorus of angels.
It's finally happened, my big girl comprehends the one and only goal when inflicted with a stomach churning illness...aim for the bowl.