Nice. Real Nice.

Why do I EVER open my mouth? Lady Luck, Fate, The "man" upstairs...whatever you want to call "it" never fails to slap me upside the head whenever I come close to gloating about little man's health.

Weekend Re-cap? SURE!

We (little man and I) found ourselves at an open house/housewarming party on Saturday evening. There were tons of kids, bouncing in an indoor bounce house...pretty much every childs wet dream.

There were tons of people. Everywhere.

The food was DELISH, a spread of homemade Chipotle style chicken, rice, beans and all of the fun fixins.

After supervising little man for a couple of hours, we were on our way home. We snuggled in on the couch, and watched a movie. Little man was in bed shortly before 9 (late, but don't judge, it was a SATURDAY after all).

Since I didn't feel like being productive, I managed to veg-out on the couch, catching some SNL, and falling asleep in the process.

Around midnight, little man came BOLTING out of his room, crying hysterically. I darted awake (still on the couch of course) and picked him up to try and decipher what was wrong...and then....I smelled it.

The poor little man had gotten sick all over his bed, floor and some various toys and books that he HAS to have next to his bed when he goes to sleep at night, including his Goodnight Moon book, and his Toy Story Woody doll.

My heart sank. Although my little man is growing up, when things like this happen I'm reminded at how little he actually is.

All was well as of Sunday morning. We were both very tired from the night, but we both survived (losing Goodnight Moon, and one stuffed animal in the process).

Remind me to NEVER EVER mention how happy I am that we're both healthy. Seriously.