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Thibault was a log to be carried

Stiff, limp and obnoxiously heavy from how round he'd gotten. Either he had puppy muscles, or he'd been too milk and mush happy. Thibby had gotten tubby, and he didn't wanna move!

Why didn't Ma carry him? Ma supposed to carry him, not Miette! Was he not round enough for her anymore? Then, before his eyes, he saw heaven. POOL OF MILK! MILK EVERYWHERE! It behaved like milk. MUST be milk! MILK BEYOND WHERE HIS EYES COULD SEE!

..Why was milk blue?

Rotten milk. EUUCK!

He scrunched and reared his nose in disgust! Icky! Instead of following Ma out, and he cried when she did, as he had convinced himself she was going to die from rotten milk, he stuffed his body close to Tousaint's. Stuffing his mouth quiet, he leaned hard into his brothers side and refused as much as he did to go in. Then, the shivers.

Shivers, because he was so angry Ma was so foolish to dive in spoiled milk!