Our weekend: Belgian Beer Paradise and a story about Zach

We are lucky to have already found some good friends among Frank's coworkers. Saturday we took the metro downtown to hang out with some of them at a beerfest that turned out to be a lot of fun. Crowded and slightly rainy, but fun. Even Frank tried some beers! There was music...the only thing missing was food. We solved that by getting some real Belgian frites (fries) on our way back home. Man, they were hot, greasy, and oh-so-good!







Now this story about Zachary is being told by Frank...

So I tried to give Beth a little break from Monkey-Wrangling by taking Zach downstairs with me Sunday morning and left her to try and get some sleep. After playing around for a while on the floor, he started getting fussy. I went into the kitchen to make him a bottle of formula, hoping that hunger was cause of the fussiness. I walked into the kitchen and Zach crawled in after me. I made a bottle of formula. As I was getting ready to shake up the bottle, I saw Zach sitting on the floor making a funny face. It was a combination of his standard chewing motion (very familiar to anyone who has seen him eat a puff) and a "what the heck is this" look in his eyes that he gets when he tries new food, especially food that he does not particularly like. Well, I hoped beyond hope that he had managed to get hold of some small piece of trash. Maybe a dust bunny. Maybe a small piece of paper or plastic. I had two thoughts. Number one, please God don't let him choke on anything. Number two, please God, let him have found a small piece of trash. I picked him up but couldn't see inside his mouth. With no other options, I hooked a finger and swept out the inside of his mouth. I came out with something on my finger.

It was wet. It was brown.

IT. WAS. STILL. MOVING.

I think I'm gonna be sick...

OK, it's Beth again. I am really glad I wasn't in the room for that one.