Wednesday, April 13, 2011


The things that I type into Google no longer surprise me. What does interest me is how predictable I've become to Google, when everything I search is correctly guessed by the auto-fill-in EVERY TIME.

Type in a color and it assumes I'm searching baby poop. It knows my life is measured in bowel movements.

This baffles me because this is the first time we've had a peanut butter scare. Someone (*cough*Andy*cough*) forgot that peanut butter is number one on the list of what you don't give a baby. Fletch turned red and splotchy from head to toe. At first I was sure it was some kind of heat rash because it was worse in the "hot" spots. Then Andy remembered the tiny bit of peanut butter sandwich that was passed to Fletch while they were waiting for the bottle to warm.

He's better today, still with some blotches, but not the scary kind. I can now add "baby eats tablespoon of peanut butter and dies" to my list of things that terrify me.

Eczema! Allergies! You're welcome, Fletch! 

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