Last night at Awana, I got a page to come to the nursery. On arrival I was told that Roman had just vomited. Nice.
He didn't appear any the worse for wear, so I got him cleaned up, found him a pair of 24 month pants (man-pris, baby!) and took the little ones home.
I think the problem was him stuffing himself with Chicken Kiev, and apparently not chewing before swallowing, and then running all over like a maniac. Because he has been fine ever since.
Noah and Deacon came home after Cubbies and Youth Group were over.
I heard the door and Deacon coming up the stairs.
The door to my bedroom flew open (very dramatically) and Deacon stood posed (very dramatically). "Mom, was it DER-matic?"
"When Roman threw up all over the nursery, mom. Was it DER-matic?"
Apparently we are all about the trauma and the drama around here.