We just took a quick trip to New York. It was a lovely time, or, as you like to say these days, "AMAZING." (Some other new favorite words and phrases... "I'm so excited!" and "stupendous" - seriously.) We spent 15 of the 3 days we were gone in airports or on planes, but you flew like a champ! Until. Until the last 5 minutes of our return flight... when air pockets and too much milk and jet lag and lord knows what else got to you, and got to your tummy, and you threw up. On me. With one, quick "BLAH" I had vomit all over my shirt, soaking my hair, on my backside and in my underpants. It was actually quite impressive how you managed to get nothing on the chair or yourself. I took it all for the team. Your welcome American Airlines flight attendants. Did I mention who watched the whole thing go down?
That's right, she did. Sharon Stone was on our plane - and actually asked me if she could help as we de-boarded. Looking back, I should have asked for the shirt off her back, huh? Next time.