kiwords

This afternoon the boys were eating lunch, fettuccine with the ultra-fancy sauce of butter and parmesan cheese. Hush, it's a fine lunch. I'm convalescing. Anyhow, as they ate, Sophia circled the table and chirped at them like a wee, demanding baby bird. They obligingly handed her noodles and she sat and gobbled them up before moving on to panhandle at the next brother. Heh. I should totally start a baby-feeding blog, huh?

About an hour later I was in the kitchen, wrestling (as ever) with the dishes, when she came trotting in. I was drinking some iced coffee, and we had a spirited debate on the subject. "Resolved: Mama should give me some of that now." Sophia's position consisted of repeated pointing and screeching. My position consisted of, "Oh, hell no, baby doll. You get coffee over my cold, dead body. LOVE YOU!"

She paused mid-rebuttal to sneeze. And cough. And sneeze again, repeatedly.

"Are you getting sick, honey?" I asked, kneeling down to look at her. That was convenient, because I was eye-to-eye when she sneezed again, and something poked out of one nostril. At first I thought it was mucous (lovingly referred to around here as a snot-worm), but closer inspection revealed that it was about a half an inch of fettuccine.

So I did what any loving mother would do, I grabbed it and tugged. Out slid a good six inches of snot-slick pasta.

I gagged and laughed and called for the boys to come see, all at once. It was much appreciated by all, although the whole incident does leave me with some unanswered questions. Like: how? and whaaa? and a silent, boggled, ????

But then, I suppose it's all just a part of the majesty and mystery of motherhood.