The Things We Do for Love

Those of you who've known me for any length of time know of my aversion to tomatoes -- in any form. It's a hatred that extends to anything made with tomatoes, or anything that's even touched a tomato. Alesa doesn't have my issues (good thing!!), but she dislikes ketchup as much as I do.

Not so Phoebe Rose. When we remember, we always give her some for the foods that the rest of the world eats with ketchup. Tonight, she grabbed the bottle herself, squirted about half a pint on her plate, and ate it with a spoon like it was ice cream. She rubbed a bunch on her shirt for good measure. I even wound up touching some of the noxious goo when I was cleaning her up.

Who do I see about hazard pay? (And if you're wondering, I rank this experience right up there with a messy diaper change).