Justice

OK, I'm over my funk from this afternoon. Randy got home and Tater woke up, and life got back to normal. Randy was is a really good mood, which helped. I don't know why his mood can always have such an effect on mine. That's one thing I've been really examining lately; how much I let my happiness depend on him... how much the person I am is shaped by him and the ten years we've spent together... which is good, which is bad... but that's a whole other therapy session...

But anyway, Randy and Tater are playing "cooking" in his chair while I'm deboning the chicken for my fabulous chicken noodle soup (I can say that because it's the only "real" food I make), and Tater starts coughing - he's still getting rid of the crud. Well, he coughed so hard he gagged himself and threw up a little - all over Randy. I had chicken hands, so all I could do was throw him a towel. Now if you know Randy even just a little bit, you know he's not the kind of guy that does well with baby bodily fluids. While he was cleaning up, Tater wandered into the game room and shut the door. Needed a little privacy. Yep, you guessed it! And I still had chicken hands, so it was all up to Daddy. He looked at me incredulously, saying he couldn't possibly do a puke and a poop all in one day. So I kindly reminded him of the time Tater and I both had the stomach virus at the same time and I handled all that for both of us for 2 days straight. Lovely memory.
So off he goes to Tater's room, latex gloves in hand. Yes, he wears gloves to change poopies. I listen to their cute little conversation, and then I hear the exclamation, "Holy Crayola!" Tater had produced a diaper of a shade that can only be created by a child with congestion. I couldn't contain my laughter. Even after almost 2 years, a poopy diaper can bring a look of absolute horror to my poor husband's face. It took him about 10 minutes to recover. Bless his heart. But still I have to say... there is justice in this world.