Milk + Kids + Car = Bad

We went to my parents' for Easter weekend. On the way down, I was talking to my sister on the phone. She related an incident from earlier in the morning in which her older daughter threw up. I thought to myself, "She's almost three, and I can remember a few times that Heather was sick like that by the time she was three. But I can't remember the last time Kelly threw up."

Now I can.

And it was about five minutes after that phone call.

We were on the interstate between Cincinnati and Louisville, and Kelly made this gurgly coughing noise from the seat behind me. It's a sound that can mean nothing else, and I looked into the rearview mirror just in time to confirm what it meant. Nice.

So we spent about 15 minutes on the side of the road, while J. held onto Kelly in the grass and I went through half a box of wipes trying to clean the booster seat, toys, carpet, etc. Eventually we got Kelly into new clothes and got the visible remnants of the incident cleaned out. We had to stop soon thereafter to purchase some air freshener, which masked but did not eliminate the lovely scent of milk throw-up. And in case we forgot about the smell, Heather talked about it for the remainder of the trip.

Aside from that, the drive was uneventful. Kelly is still determined to make my parents' dog, Bailey, and inside dog. No matter where she was in the house, if someone opened the back door to let Bailey back outside, Kelly would rush into the room asking, "Where's Bailey?"

We went to a friend's church on Easter Sunday, and Heather got to go up front for her first Children's message. As the lady went through the Easter story, Heather raised her hand for nearly every question, but wasn't getting picked to answer. Then the lady talked about Jesus being in the tomb, and she said, "But He didn't stay there, did He? What happened?" This time she did pick Heather, who promptly answered into the microphone, "He riz."

That afternoon the girls got to hunt for Easter eggs in my parents' backyard. My mom bought some extra empty eggs for the girls to hide, so we wouldn't have to worry about them spilling and the dogs getting the chocolate inside. Heather was not in favor of this idea. So we hid the "real" eggs. Heather loved finding them, and if you showed an egg to Kelly, she'd pick it up and drop it in her basket. After they found the candy-filled eggs, Heather wanted us to hide the empty eggs so they could find them again. I did. I hid all 48 eggs (gee, thanks, Mom!), although by the end I was just tossing them into the grass and leaving them where they landed.

The girls burst out of the door and started running for eggs. Even Kelly ran across the yard to grab an egg. She picked it up, shook it next to her ear, and then dropped it back onto the ground. J. and I laughed, and I said, "it's a dud!" Kelly said, "It's a dud!" She did pick up a few eggs that we pointed out to her, but she didn't seem to understand the point in searching out eggs that didn't even have candy in them.

Happy belated Easter! He is risen!