Lips pursed into a thin line at the crack about spitting up, to which Tony just reached behind him into the bag on the stroller for the towel and draped it over his shoulder. "I come prepared," he said with a smirk as he lifted Ant and placed him over the towel, patting him on the back to burp him. "He's less an ant and more of a butterball," he joked, then heard Ant let out a little burp and the inevitable spew of the spit up milk. That part was always so gross to Tony that he made a face every time he dealt with it. "Almost four months old. Doesn't seem that long ago and now I've gone and knocked you up again." Of course, Tony found that amusing and smirked.