Let me paint you a picture. This morning, I stepped out of the shower and heard my baby boy crying upstairs. Knowing that Diana had just put in a long night, I ran upstairs to give her a thirty second break. In my haste, I neglected to put on a towel. But, as I've said before we are clothing optional at casa Hamann.
So I jump upstairs and lift the sad boy out of his crib thing. I gave him exactly three pats on the back when he barfed out a gallon of formula. Down my naked back. This doesn't feel as great as you may expect. In fact it's totally gross. And causes the barf recipient to jump up and down like a moron.
To add insult to injury, Grover decided at this moment that regurgitated formula is delicious. Fill in the rest of the picture on your own.
Today's photo is of my partner, Matt Spett, who's having a baby in another month. I just think he looks silly.
p.s. My cousin Paul Hamann is on yesterday's comments section. Hello Paul.
2 comments:
Hey, Rick...send me an email. I have a gift for your boy and want to confirm your snailmail address. It's my first and last name at gmail.
I'm jealous of a dog who can eat barf. Gotta be a much easier life if you have that level of tolerance.
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