Regurgitate, Regurgitate, Throw Up All the Food You Ate...

Remember the beginning of "Toy Story"? After Woody's catastrophic announcement that Andy's birthday party is today, the toys are gathered around the baby monitor, waiting with bated breath to find out what each package contains. They heave a sigh of relief when the toy soldier whispers into the monitor, "Bed sheets!"

"BED SHEETS!!?" says Hamm, the piggy bank. "Who invited THAT kid?"

I know who invited that kid. Andy's mom. And probably after she'd been dealing with a week of incessant stomach fluing and had to change more sheets than she had and was trying to make do with receiving blankets and cloth diapers strung across the mattress and to make it worse the flu was the ONE thing the twins decided to willingly share and . . . oh, wait. That wasn't in the movie. That was here. Reality and fantasy tend to blur after a few sleepless nights . . .

You know something's up when this

 

and this

turn to this

and this

But things are finally starting to look better. Miriam gave me a mischievous look and cackled as she stuck her thumb in her mouth and her finger up her nose, and Abraham tried to pick up some goose poop.

Normal never looked so good!