Just when I thought raising kids couldn't possible get any grosser, it happened. I've managed to duck and dive my way out of vomits' path, to much avail, in these past four years; however, today was the day vomit won.
The Boy announced a stomach ache after eating dinner, and we brushed it off as merely an attempt to score another popsicle and perhaps some Gatorade. After his repeated attempts for this tasty thirst quencher grew more and more loud and annoying; he was banished to the lavish loveseat for some TLC and Alvin and The Chipmunks (#2, we don't mess around in this house.) A groan here, a wimper there, and a tear shed finally got me thinking...Yikes, he really could be sick. Naaaahhhhh, just to much Wendy's Chicken Nuggets and Fries (nothing but the best for my kids!)
"Mommy, will you take me pee-pee" is the sound I hear faintly drifting over The Chipettes verion of Single Ladies. As my guilt kicked in for having doubted the severity of his illness, I obliged, and said, "anything for my wittle baby boy." He did his business, turned around and looked at me with a gaze that frightened me ever so much. If his face could have spoken at that moment it would've said, "uh oh, I think somethings gonna......BLAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
And, there we were in the tiny powder room, no where for me to duck or dive. I was covered with a fruit punch, chicken nugget, french fry mess. Holding back my gags and my need to now puke, I tried to turn him around to the toilet. Nope, missed again; this time, the sink and wall. Third times the charm, right? Nope, closet door, half the toilet, and toilet paper holder. So here we are, the bathroom, myself, and the boy covered in vomit. It was the grossest, most smelly, most notoriously memorable moment of the last four years and something I will not soon forget.
As I'm sure you're all wondering, he's fine. Just a few more projectile episodes into a bucket on Mommy and Daddy's bed and now he's fine. I was convinced he had West Nile Disease, Stomach Cancer, and EColi poisoning; however, the rational one in our relationship convinced me it was just a four year old with an upset stomach.
Not the first time we've encountered vomit in our house, not the last time, I just hope I can get out of the way fast enough next time. And, the little booger did get his popsicles and Gatorade after all.
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