Few things are more disgusting to me than the smell of raw hot dogs. I can barely stand to touch the things, for fear of the lingering stench. However, like most little boys, ours love them and due to a "kid party" being held at the house, I gave in and bought a jumbo, family pack of them. After the party, I put the remaining hot dogs in a zip-lock bag and shoved it back in the fridge.
A few days later,when it was time to throw them out, (since I definitely wouldn't be making them again) I grabbed the bag from the fridge. While holding it, I stopped to rearrange the shelf. Malcolm was, as usual, underfoot at the time. From the corner of my eye, I saw him flinch at something. I looked down to see him actually lapping at a steady stream of something falling from the air right into his mouth, face, and hair...
leaking, raw HOT DOG JUICE.
It took all the mother-love I possess to pick up my sweet little Malcolm, now covered in nasty, nasty hot dog juice. By the time I got him to the sink, it was already forming crusty spikes in his hair and he was still trying to lick whatever remained on his face. My poor, poor, disgusting angel baby.
