..when you wake up cupping two palmfuls of puke, generously regurgitated by your toddler, and with nary a whimper, a squeal or a missed beat, you transport said toddler, puke-nuked clothes and bedclothes and upchucked self to the bathroom for a good ole hose down.
Am centered Goddess in a whirling, puke-drenched, entropic universe.
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Just when Arvind may have convinced you it would be a good idea to have another baby (and so easily done at that:)), Armaan in his own way is saying “On the other hand…”.
Oh Anj, The answer is a cat. A lovely fluffy one that will only cough up hairballs. See, only the “one who pees” and the “peed upon” (eww. eww. eww.) get a say:-) No more two-legged additions thankseversomuch!
And now that you mention it, Armaan does have this lovely, blatant contraceptive quality.
What ?!? And not have a girl? No goddess in training? No attempt to gain back ground from all the men in the house? Surely you won’t let a little puke soil the plan.
After *n* nights of sleepless torture, (can’t bring myself to say the number) the plan we’re closest to executing involves a vasectomy and a ball point pen.
No thoughts of that pretty girl child. I’ll miss the purrrty dresses, but I’m opting for sleep!
yes, I’m a wuz that way.
Now that scene, is from our house. Just replace the protagonists.
Been there…done that,over and over…
My sympathies ILWML!