G was very peckish at lunchtime. Mrs J had given her a feed but she still seemed to want a bit more. So Mrs J decided to make up a little bottle of formula to make sure G didn't go hungry. We'd done this a couple of times before and it had gone ok, and sure enough after the top-up G was quickly into a deep sleep. Feeling smug, we took her around town and even stopped off at Common in the Northern Quarter on the way back for a hot chocolate (Mrs J) and a cheeky pint of Marble Manchester Bitter (me).
This smugness lasted until shortly after we got home, when G sicked up everywhere. Then, after a brief interlude during which Mrs J changed her clothes and calmed the little one down, G was sick again. This prompted a bit of low-key whining from G, and a more heartfelt outburst from Mrs J: "I've only got two pairs of trousers that fit, and she's just been sick over both of them!" Still, looking on the bright side, it was baby's first proper vomit. As reasons to celebrate go it's not exactly up there with first words or first tooth, but it's better than nothing I suppose.
As you can see from the picture, Mrs J has forgiven G. We all eat too much every now and again after all. But we're going to Birmingham tomorrow for a friend's wedding on Saturday, and if G throws up all over Mrs J's dress during the reception, I don't think she'll be quite so forgiving.
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