
I hope all of my posts don't have an explanation point in the title...
On Saturday, March 17, 2007, we had Noah's birthday party with his friends. That wasn't the best part about Noah turning three, however. On Sunday, March 11, 2007 (Noah's real birthday), we went to church at 12:59 PM, just like any other Sunday. Noah was insanely hyper and in need of a nap, just like any other Sunday. Little did he know... ("I've taught classes on little did he know") that this sacrament meeting would change his life forever.
While the deacons were passing the water for the sacrament, Noah started to wimper that his tummy hurt. At this point, I thought to myself, "I just need to finish the sacrament, and then I'll take him out." Kristi turned to me and whispered, "you'd better take him out after you take the sacrament." Just then, Noah's wimpers excalated into a wail, and... he barfed all over me. He barfed all over me, the pew, the floor, and himself, of course. I whisked him away to the bathroom while he was crying, "I spit up... I spit up... my tummy hurts... I'm sorry I spit up..."
It took me half an hour to get the chunks out of our clothes and hair. Then, I took him out to the car in his undies.
It sucked.