Tonight Alex threw up his dinner. At dinner. At a restaurant. On the table and his plate and the front of his shirt and my wedding ring (love it when those things happen when Pete's out of town).
And as I worked through the six-inch stack of napkins the waitress brought me, the thought occurred to me that when I gazed at my ring with gaze-y eyes on my wedding day, I didn't also picture myself digging...pieces...out of it.
Add that to the growing list of things I didn't foresee when I signed up for parenthood.