Two days ago, Michael fed Scarlett something. He originally told me she was "crying for corn." I was in the next room making dinner, I asked him what he said, turned to wash my hands and she started screaming. I ran in and found his hand half way down her throat and he said she "slallowed a quarter." I actually did panic some. I texted my mom and Clint, they both asked if she was breathing...
Small rabbit trail.... if my baby were not breathing, I wouldn't be texting, come on.
Okay, back to the point. She was fine. She nursed and calmed down quickly. I searched the floor and found no sign of money. Michael calls all money a quarter. I didn't feel like she could have swallowed a quarter or any money. Michael was insistent that he had fed her something and she had "slallowed" whatever it was... We decided to just watch her. Surely showing up to the ER with two kids over the course of three days flags you and puts you on some sort of list.
Fast forward two days, I was changing my dear Scarlett' s diaper and... tmi alert.... a popcorn kernel fell out of her butt.
To add to a fun week of concussions and swallowing foreign objects... I walked in to my laundry room at 6:30 this morning to find my two gerbils had sprung themselves from jail. I was not thrilled, nor was Clint when I woke him up before seven on his day off. Luckily, we quickly discovered that they had both escaped the cage and had immediately fallen in to the open washer and become trapped.... HA!!!! Idiots....
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