The Changeling

It was a bad day.

Some days just are that way. The wind was howling and they couldn’t combine. The uncombined corn blew over and/or off of the stalks. We ran to Chadron for groceries. Elly fussed the whole time so we gave her a bottle, but no burping, which quieted her but I think precipitated the next small issue.

Her dad always gives her her bed time bottle leaving me time to relax and get other things done. Tonight was no different. They giggled and talked and tried to get her medicine down. With as much milk as possible hoping for a long time between feeds.  We all sat on the couch together looking forward to sleep. The day and the wind were winding down. I flipped through a magazine as he sat her up in his lap to burp her.

A loud shouting, which may or may not have involved a lot of cursing, interrupted my peaceful reverie. I turned to see my husband blocking the last of a stream of vomit with the burp cloth as he held sweet little Elly at arms length. His bare chest glistened with milk and the dripping globules  of a cottage cheese  like substance that makes up the content of her stomach. With a gasp of horror I looked beyond him to the end table. His phone, the remotes, all three of them, magazines, including the one he had just bought, and the case for his lap top were all covered.

Other then the sheer volume it took to cover that much surface area he had been holding her with her head to the center of the couch. She had projected for a good two or three feet. I grabbed a few more burp cloths and took the, baby?, and we began clean up. The table, the couch, the floor and the blanket had all been coated in the slimy stuff. My quilt that we keep on the couch is sturdy but aging I don’t think it is going to stand up to this baby stuff. The couch it’s self will surly need replaced by the time this is over.

I will never need to worry about him beating little Elly, if he was able to refrain from tossing her in the shock and horror of that little incident nothing else should ever try his temper. I wonder though is this a baby that we have or did goblins steal the real Elly and leave us one of theirs?

If by any chance you should ever come to visit us, don’t sit on the couch.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *