How is it

that Rowan is gagging and barfing while the baby is saying something indecipherable?

And when Rowan finishes, I ask, "What is your sister saying?"

The baby repeats her phrase.

Rowan quickly answers, "She says she wants a cookie," and then just as quickly turns back to the trashcan to barf some more.

"You want a cookie?" I question the baby while rubbing Rowan's back.

"Yes, I want a cookie," the baby responds, as she rests her chin in her little hands as she watches her sister barf.

My first thought is wow, this baby has a stomach made of steel. And second, does she really think that just because we're up with her sick sister at 4AM that she should get a cookie? Really?

How is it that I can't hold a five-year-old while the phlebotomist tries to draw blood so we can discover what exactly he's allergic to? We had to get a male phlebotimist to help. He's five. I hope he's not allergic to egg whites like the baby.

How is it that the day I'm getting my hair done becomes the same day I have to get a wisdom tooth pulled? Dual pain, which was tolerable until the sun went down and the moon rose. So it seems I won't be able to enjoy turkey to its fullest tomorrow, but I can still be thankful on Thanksgiving and also I'll still be able to shop on the second greatest holiday, Black Friday.