when I started this blog five years ago, I was a pet sitter and the name animal-crackers made sense. now I'm a stay-at-home-dad and freelance writer, but rather than confuse everyone by getting a different blog, it's just easier to keep posting things here.

Warning: This blog entry contains material that may not be suitable for all readers. In particular, it's about vomit. If vomit makes you vomit and you don't feel like vomitting because you generally save that for when you've had an extra piece of cheesecake, then don't read this. Or eat the cheesecake, and then read this.

Seriously.

It all started on a sunny morning. The Easter Seals nutritionist stopped by for her monthly visit (and no that's not a euphemism). She weighed Dylan and we talked about his diet.

He weighed 16 pounds, 8 ounces -- which was 8 ounces more than he weighed four weeks ago, but 8 ounces less than he should weigh. For his adjusted age (7 1/2 months) that put him in the 10-to-25 percentile. (For his actual age, he's in the 1 percentile.)

Here's something we didn't know. Premies need 100 calories per kilogram per day. Dylan's 7.5 kilos, so he needs 750 calories. That's 34 ounces of premie formula. That's more than a quart. We estimated he was getting closer to 600 calories.

Of course we're concerned. He needed more food. So we fed him. And fed him. And fed him. You know, just doing what we were told.

After feeding Dylan, oh I don't know, something like a gallon of formula he started squirming and crying. I tried to burp him and instead he eruptted.

Now I've seen all sorts of puking. I worked in a group home where a guy ate an entire pecan pie in less than five minutes. But never have I seen puke like this.

It blew from Dylan's mouth like a fire hose. It sprayed the couch, me, him. We were soaked in vomit. Dylan looked at me, surprised. Half of his face was coated in it.

It took quite a while but eventually everything cleaned up ok. But good lord we don't want to see that again.