One of my first entries was about Archer puking at Amoeba. Today the kid puked all over the (forget-the-name) furniture showroom, and me, and the salesman, and my flip-flops.
This time the salesguy didn't notice. I had to tell him, "hold on, while I clean up" so I could pat my teets and shoulders and Rebe diaper bag and clean the gooey milky stuff between my toes. Dude was on a mission, trying to sell me couches and tables and dressers and whatever else he was trying to sell. He could care less about the spit-up on his collar. "Whatever. Check out the upholstery on this one."
Ah, sweet, sweet man. Sweet, sweet milky puke bath.