This Powered Milk is De-licious!!

Every once in a while, I can tell something just. isn’t. right. And it usually isn’t a case of my gut instinct saying, “Hey Gail…what’s goin’ on?” It’s usually because I hear something, just faintly, that makes me need to check on things. Mostly, it involves me bolting from the spot that I am at to another spot not too far away, and then standing and laughing. Sometimes, I have to laugh later.

The first time I remember this happening at our current house is when Fonz got sprayed by the skunk. I heard, in the distance, a far off bark. But it wasn’t his usual bark, it was more of a yelp, and I knew something wasn’t right. So I rushed to the back door and began frantically calling for him, whistling, etc. And then I remember seeing him materialize out of the darkness, and stumbling, and then the smell hit me. Since then, I know that bark, and I know to just get the supplies ready.

Another time, I think it was my 30th birthday, we were at my parent’s house. Sitting in the dining room, which is just off the kitchen, and I heard something. For whatever reason, I bolted from my chair, like the house was on fire, thoroughly confusing everyone in attendance, and rushed into the kitchen. There was Fonz, next to the table in the breakfast nook, with the incriminating blue icing from my ice cream birthday cake still on his whiskers.

A more recent incident was when I was watching TV later at night and Samantha was already bedded down for the evening. I heard just a little something, a tiny little muffle, and got up to check on her. She had wiggled herself around so much that the blanket was covering her face, and she was not happy about it. (yes, we do put blankets with her in the crib, even though the temperature in her room is approximately 75 degrees, she has to have her pajamas on, her fleece swaddleme wrap, 2 fleece blankets and her comforter. Otherwise she is just freezing and will NOT sleep through the night) I could tell when I yanked the blanket down that either she had been in distress, or I just scared the crap out of her. (oddly enough, now she turns her face into her blankets whenever they are near her face)

And then there was last night. Again, lying in bed. Again, watching TV. And I heard something. We’d gotten back from Michigan not long before, and I’d only half unpacked. The can of formula I’d taken sat in the green bag behind the couch in our room. That is where the mysterious noise was coming from. So again, I leapt out of bed, rush to the couch, and find this…

Apparently, powdered baby formula is quite tasty. He not only got the lid off, but the scoop out of the can and was licking it clean when he was caught!

And he was so ashamed…