The other night, I was straight up exhausted. Michael had to go out after dinner to do some work and Nora's nights were still pretty rotten, so I begged off dish duty and Michael graciously sent me to bed to rest for a half hour or so before he had to leave.
Phoebe was playing with babies while Michael cleaned up the kitchen, and this was the conversation I overheard:
Michael: Oh, Phoebe! Are you feeding your baby some juice?
Michael: What happens to juice after the baby drinks it? Do you need to change her diaper?
Phoebe: No, I think she throw up.
I couldn't help but crack up from my bed. That, my friends, is a sign there's been too much throw up in the house. We so thank the Lord that that stomach bug is gone. (It's been gone for a while...but really, we talk about throw up at least once a day now.) I'm praying we see no more throw up for, well, a very long time.