Just now, The Boy and I heard the sound of Birchy throwing up in the front hallway. As we went to inspect the damage, The Boy said "Oh my gawd it's in your shoes!" ...Then he laughed, because he was kidding. We weren't even in the hallway yet.
But once we got out there...guess where the vomit was?
Yeah. In my $200 leather shoes. Both of them.
I really don't know whether Birch was helpfully trying not to mess up the floor, or if he just hates me.
Confidential to Birchy: dude, your puke looked like a handful of pristine, untouched kibble in stomach-acid gravy. CHEW YOUR DAMN FOOD.