S threw up at the little crepe cafe we tried on Friday night. Phil had been out of town all week. S had been quite sick early in the week. I was ready to get out of the house and there's this little crepe cafe nearby that I'd been wanting to try.
I'm not sure what decided it, but before he even tasted the food, he was announcing that he didn't like it. So then when we made him taste bits he was pulling all the common child tricks: not touching it with his lips as he pulled it from the fork, taking minuscule bites, picking all the ingredients apart and spreading them around his plate. And then, after Phil had managed to feed him a few bites, it happened.
Once home, and he was in the bath, I got my revenge. I threw his clothes in the ingenious washing machine (really I just forgot, I promise).
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2 comments:
Teach him to ruin your dinner out on the town. (What was his reaction to the surprise fountain?)
I'd probably call it a vigorous yelp. I got in there pretty quick and got him out before the water was up to his neck.
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