Our futon had a run-in with a vomiting toddler* last night, so this morning I had to put the freshly laundered cover back on it. This isn’t the easiest thing to do solo, but it isn’t insurmountable. I’d finished wrestling it about, and I was about 2 inches away from having it fully zipped. And the zipper pull? Rather than stopping at the end of the zipper mechanism? It shot straight off. And I couldn’t figure out how to put it back on, so I guess we’ll just have to leave the cover on forever.

This means that, toddlers? The futon is now a no-puking zone. Thank you.

Also this morning: I told Poppy she’d need to wear long sleeves, because it’s kind of chilly this morning.

“I’m through with this!” she said.

“Through with what?” I asked.

“Through with you telling me what to wear.”

Apparently she turned 14 last night.

*Not Pete! It was the little girl who stays with us during the day. She stayed home for two days, trying to avoid the sick, but apparently it didn’t work.