Today, while at the hair salon, my hairdresser, Jess, was talking about her 4-year-old spontaneously projectile vomiting, and we were having a good laugh about it. Of course, I had a "I've walked on the moon" moment, and one-upped her, but judging by the fact that she couldn't even do my hair because she was laughing so hard, I don't think she minded. I knew in that moment that I needed to record it for posterity. I have forgotten many of the details of this adventure, so my children (Ethan especially) might need to correct me. However, here's how it sits in my memory banks: When Ethan was about eight years old (meaning Mark was around five, and Johannah was two), we lived in Dayton, Ohio (Oakwood specifically). We lived in a little tiny house, on a little tiny piece of land, but we didn't care; we weren't living in an apartment anymore. Just ten feet from our backdoor hung a bench swing in our neighbor's back yard. Gene had told us that ...
A blog chronicling the adventures of the Kennedy Family