Calvin used to spit. All the time. Not occasionally, but constantly. In retrospect it's quite humorous. But at the time it drove me crazy. I'd find it on the carpet, on the front porch, in the sink. I'd holler his name and make him come clean it up whenever I found it. If there had been a Spitter's Anonymous Group I would have driven him there myself. But there wasn't. This habit lasted for a long time. It lasted all of kindergarten and some of first grade. I hounded him to stop, but we all know how well that works. Finally he slacked off and only spit occasionally.
I'll never see that kid spit again. Some days, still, that's almost more than I can bear. But somehow I manage to get out of bed, shower, go to work, come home, take care of the other two absolutely wonderful children I have, and all of a sudden I made it through another day. I still miss him terribly. He was such a good kid and I just try to remember all the good times we had together, although I can't forget all the falling down the stairs incidences we had. I'll tell you that story tomorrow. I promise you will laugh.