Last Saturday we visited some friends of ours... they have built an amazing snow fort in the front yard that Lexi and their daughter played in, plus it was the first time they had met the babies.
Anyhow, we (I mean I) got to chatting, and we got home rather late. Before we were in the door, Angela and I had a plan of attach for getting to bed arranged. These days, we have to have plans of attach, or we'd never accomplish anything. My job was the boys - change diapers, clean clothes, and bedtime bottles, in addition to getting myself ready for bed.
About 15 minutes after we got home, I had all three of us ready. I was sitting on the bed with the boys propped up in between my legs so I could give them both bottles at the same time. I was feeling rather proud of myself for how efficiently I had done all of those things. Unfortunately, I got distracted thinking about how terrific I was, and failed to notice just how quickly the two were drinking, or how much they had consumed without being burped. A few minutes later into my musings on my effectiveness as a parent, they both rolled inward and spit up significant volumes, right onto my crotch.
Angela walked in just in time to find me cleaning up myself and both boys, including changing some clothes, and she was forced to ask what on earth I had been doing all that time, and why we weren't ready for bed.
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