There's a moral to this story...

Sarah turned seven on June 4th.  Her Daddy was out of town that day and we were scheduled to be at Peter's Amazing Race all afternoon.  So to make up for not being able to properly celebrate, I told her that after the Cub Scout event, we could go to dinner wherever she suggested. She happily agreed to this and off we went to the Amazing Race.

Sarah was very bored the whole time so I let her use my camera to photograph the event.  Most of the pictures from that afternoon were taken by Sarah and I think she did a pretty good job!

 The Pack was providing hotdogs and hamburgers and chips but we weren't eating there because we were going out for Sarah's birthday. Between taking pictures and telling me she was bored, I let Sarah have a couple of snack sized bags of Doritos.  I love Doritos but don't keep them around the house for fear I will eat them all...in one sitting.  (Doritos dipped in warm cream cheese is especially delicious.  I have an old college friend to thank for sharing that delicacy with me!) I didn't feel too bad about letting her have a couple of bags because I was eating some of them as well.

Towards the end of the event, her whining reached an all new level, I was trying to talk to some of the other moms as well as focus on the action, and I agreed to let her have another bag of chips.  I think this time it was Cheetos.

The event finally ended and we went to one of our favorite local restaurants.  This restaurant has a pizza bar which the kids love and the best wings around which I love.  So we were all happy.  Or so I thought.

Sarah had two bites of her pizza and wouldn't eat anything else until the waitresses came out clapping and singing Happy, Happy Birthday to Sarah.  They laid a nice hunk of cheesecake in front of her and she graciously agreed to let me and Peter share it with her.

Being serenaded by the waitresses.

My beautiful birthday girl!

Around 11:30 that night I could hear Sarah in her room coughing.  That's odd, I thought, hoping that she didn't have a cold and wondering if I should check on her. 

Then she started crying.  That's strange, I thought, hoping that she was just having a bad dream and wondering if I should check on her.

Then she started calling my name.  That's not good, I thought, realizing that something was wrong and it was probably going to involve changing the sheets and I better go check on her.

I went running into her room right as she started throwing up.

The volume was large.  The color was orange. The smell was...Doritos?!  (Yes, she threw up all of those Doritos.  Apparently she had more than I realized.)

I've learned one thing from this.  And no, it's not that I should monitor her Dorito intake more closely.

It's this...

No matter how much you love Doritos...throw up that smells like Doritos...is still throw up!