Happy Fatlipiversary, 96!

We all remember the great April Fools Day Blizzard of '97, right? In case you don't, it came at the end of an otherwise sparse winter, snow-wise, although I barely remember this, as Tom and I were still adjusting to the tiny human who had joined us five months earlier.

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knew Tom, we had a very strict division of labor. The litter box  rule directed that he took care of the back end of the cats and I took care of the front end. Little did he know I early on discovered the rule's corollary: One cat's puke is another cat's gourmet take out.

Always looking for ways to educate myself about health concerns get out of the worst chores,  of course we I wanted to minimize my exposure to dangerous pathogens aforementioned worst chores when I was pregnant whenever I thought I could get away with it.  And until the day he died he took care of the litterbox, because "I might be pregnannnnnnnt!"

Another rule we had was that he did the driveway, and I shoveled the steps. This was our first major snowfall with the baby. We looked at each other, and at the snow outside. What we we supposed to do?  We finally decided,  "It's a tiny baby. Where is it going to go?" and put 96 on the floor on his back under one of those jungle gym things he could entertain himself with for five minutes while I went out and shoveled the steps. Really, no more than five minutes. I mean, it's three steps. How long could it have taken?

I came back in, and 96 had rolled himself over. I have no idea if this was his first time rolling over. But he was certainly new to the rolling over game, because he smashed his face in the process, giving himself his first bloody nose and fat lip.

Of course I took a picture. Then I applied the cold pack.

So, Happy Fat Lip and Bloody Nose Day, 96! Love you!