Lucy's been fairly pukey for the last couple weeks. We don't think it's because we let her watch "America's Next Top Model", but we're not ruling it out as a possiblity. She has an uncanny knack for throwing up at the precise moment you're switching her to your other shoulder or right after you've changed her into a clean outfit. I suppose vomit is as good a fluid as any to express spite.
"Target sited. Emessis armed."
Sam can hold and aim her like a Gatling gun.
This has absolutely nothing to do with ralphing. This is the amazing lemon merigue pie that Becky made. So sweet. So sublime. Or is that sublemon?