So while no members of my family showed up at my house to kill me after that last post, my preshus son certainly gave it a sporting effort. I once again fell victim to that parenting phenomenon where your kid gets a single solitary ooky diaper and then BLAMMO, you are beyond violently ill for the next 24 hours, crouched on the bathroom floor and praying for the sweet release of death, or at least begging your stomach to GIVE IT UP ALREADY, YOU ARE COMPLETELY EMPTY YET CONTINUE TO PUNISH ME, WHY, WHYYYYY?
Ahem. What? Enough with the vomit talk? Okay!
(Shall I shake you down for some more money instead? We're at $5,430 [dudes! awesome!] -- 78% of our goal. I have a wine-and-cheese cocktail party this weekend with our community council and neighbors and really don't want to go with pink hair. Especially since I think they may already not like us because ours is the only recycling container with so many glass bottles instead of plastic, not that I would ever check and maybe dump a couple wine bottles into someone else's recycling container and then deliberately put our empty milk cartons on top or anything. No. I would never do that. Anyway, Stacy and Heather still need your donations. Thanks!)
Anyway, thanks for bearing with me as I attempt to claw my way back to health and sanity. I was going to reward your patience with a hilarious video of Noah throwing a terrifically pointless and snot-nosed little temper tantrum -- the kind of video that would generate a lot of tsk-tsks from people because HOW DARE I MOCK MY CHILD'S PAIN FOR SHINY INTERNET NICKELS -- but there's something wrong with the file and I can't get it to upload correctly. Damn it.
So here, you get this instead.