Spilled Milk

That's all well and good, but how do you tell a toddler not to cry over it? Especially when he just puked it up. Let's go to the scoreboard:

French Milk: 2
Ben: 0

Though, to be honest, I'm not sure how Ben is supposed to score points in this type of game. Slaughter a few French cows?

Beth's guess is that someone left it out at some point, then stuck it back in the fridge like nothing happened. Being that this is the second time that this has happened (the first was on our first day here, huzzah), we aren't too pleased. (It smelled fine by the way. Not the puke. The milk. The milk in the bottle. Do I have to clarify everything for you people!?)

This happened less than two hours ago, and we believe the second time, the time that emptied all of his dinner and (we hope) all of his curdled milk onto the middle of the living room floor, should be the last time. I cleaned up the mess with a spatula while Beth comforted Ben with a movie.

We moved his mattress to the middle of the living room floor because he likes to peak out his little "window", and if he's feeling sick, he'll most likely pop his head out and say, "Mamaa *blawwww*" and then I'll have to clean up a crevice between 2 large pillars and a couch and a bed.

The downside is that he now only has 1 thing, the couch, keeping him from rolling off his mattress, so combined with all 6 hours of sleep I've gotten all week, I'm looking forward to a lovely evening.

Beth worked from home today and I vaguely remember something about going to the Science and Industry museum again with Ben.

Comparatively, there's not much to say, other than the story of when we first got there. Ben wanted to do the construction, of course. So we went in and I let him do his thing, but I didn't bother with the getup, the hat doesn't fit well and it was hot in there. About 10 minutes in, a lady with a badge comes over and tells me in broken English that it's required. For safety.

A non-reflective orange vest and non-fitted construction cap to protect the children from sponge blocks and hand pushed rail carts. This in a country where there are 30 foot tall climbable Eiffel towers and 10 foot high unenclosed wooden bridges at public playgrounds.We went to another area, lest the insanity was communicable.