Baby balanced on one hip, Frodo leaned precariously over and snatched the jam jar from a toddler who was about to let it smash on the stone floor. He set the jar on the kitchen table and rushed to the stove, removing a smoking frying pan from the heat just in the nick of time.
He blew a curl out of his eyes and jounced the irritable baby with increasing desperation. She was teething, and cranky.
'Sam, blast you,' he thought, 'where are you?'
Frodo found him retching in the bathroom.
“Aye,” Sam said weakly. “I’m increasing again.”