Once upon a time, in a townhouse far far away in the ‘burbs
of the O.C…. I made Barbacoa Beef for dinner.
Does anyone else just HAVE to pronounce it “BAR-BA-COOOHHH-AHHHHHH”
every time because of that blasted Taco Bell commercial?
Anyways..
The Bar-ba-co-a was delish and super yum and Neal said “oh
yeah! Uh-huh, far out!” over it.
The only problem was, it was a wee bit spicy.
So Neal is enjoying his, and Austin has finished up with his
dinner, happily sitting in his high chair, face just wiped clean of peas,
pears, snot and drool.
Suddenly the spice hits and I need to blow my nose. Like
NOW.
Being the civilized folks that we are, there are no napkins
or paper towels on the table because that would just be too clean and easy and
Henry would be sad he missed out on licking our fingers.
So in my moment of nose-running desperation, I reach for the
nearest thing.
A baby washcloth.
The same washcloth that just cleaned off my son’s snot,
drool, peas, pears and spit-out food.
Yep. All that baby muck glory is now all over my nose as I
wipe and blow my nose with the washcloth… because getting up and walking 2 feet
to get a paper towel was just too much effort.
Motherhood? Glamorous?
You betcha!
The End
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