Everything was going so smoothly - too smoothly apparently. We ordered, waited without incident, ate our food, talked about the day. It was miraculous actually - apparently too miraculous.
Finishing up, Number 3 says,"Something is in my throat.". "Just drink some of your drink, sweetie."
My words were still hanging in the air when he turned his head toward his Daddy (lucky break for me) opened his mouth and very naturally and precisely proceeded to throw up. Unfazed really, he said, "I'm OK. Let's go now."
After I gulped down a few more necessary sips of my margarita, I quickly shuffled Numbers 1-3 to the car. Daddy cleaned up the mess as best he could, got the check, to go boxes and Baby Thomas, then tried to warn our waiter about the mess. He couldn't recall the Spanish word for "throw up".
Two or three kids ago, this episode would have freaked us out. Or at the very least, surprised us. But we know with complete certainty, you really don't ever know what is going to happen next. Five minutes or five years from now. You just have to deal with things as they come and move on. Brushing up on Spanish doesn't hurt either!
* Thankfully, Number 3 didn't throw up anymore on the way home or since.
Another day, another story,