Poor Boopsie. On Tuesday she threw up 12(!) times. Then I threw up all day yesterday. Now she’s at Grammie and Grampie’s and I’m trying to stay awake until the handyman leaves and I can go back to bed. And fervently hoping Daddy-o doesn’t also get sick.
Here’s an overheard conversation from last weekend. I was in the kitchen and Boopsie was bouncing up and down on Daddy-o, who was laying on the couch.
Daddy-o: Boopsie, what does a cat say?
Daddy-o: And what does a horse say?
Daddy-o: What does a cow say?
Daddy-o: What does a sheep say?
Daddy-o: And what does a Boopsie say?
Boopsie: (pause…pause) NO!!!
Yep, kiddo. That’s about right. (Although “mine” is a new favorite in the repertoire…)