It’s not a party until . . .

As our house is too small to accommodate both of our families, we decided to hold two parties for Ryan the weekends before and after his birthday. So, yesterday Gina’s family was over for party number one. It was a stressful week for Gina and I, as I’m having a bronchial relapse and she’s been putting in long hours at work, but the party went well. Ryan got lots of clothes and toys and was typically adorable.

The festivities went a long way in helping Gina and I relax. That is, until our nephew Andy threw up on the kitchen floor. My brother-in-law Jim had the genius idea of feeding him six pieces of pizza (that’s two-thirds of a large,) and right as Andy had his coat on to leave BLARRRGGGHHH! A half-digested pizza geyser erupted by the sink. The only saving grace to this otherwise disgusting affair was that at least Andy missed the carpet. And also, the pizza was cheese. I don’t think I could have dealt with more toppings.

“Party’s over!” I said as soon as the vomit comet hit, and as our guests departed I was on my knees scooping mushy Domino’s debris. It was enough to make me forsake our weekly pizza night for a while, but after three rounds of mopping and one vacuuming the floor was crawlable again.

But otherwise, a good time was had by all. Here’s Ryan on the rider his Nana gave him, one of his favorite new toys.