Hickey

I hate hickeys. Hate. Loathe entirely. Never given one. Never received one . . . until yesterday. We were at the water park. No I’m not kidding.

Baby B Rose was hungry, so I left my son in the capable hands of my husband to ride slide after slide after slide and retreated to our claimed shaded area. On the way Rosie decided to latch onto my shoulder and suck. I didn’t really thing anything of it. I got everything situated enough that I could feed my daughter and not flash anyone, when I noticed a mark on my right clavicle. My first hickey. Hooray.

And for the record, it is really hard, nay impossible to cover a hickey while wearing a bathing suit.