Spent a sleepless night on the couch last night. I was happily watching a movie when Number 2 called out to me around 11pm - he'd gone to bed feeling a bit off, and had woken up and chundered all over himself, the floor rug and his bed.
After washing him off, I stuck him in our bed with a bucket - there was no way he was going back into his bed. I went back to the couch, and settled in for the night.
I didn't want him in the middle of our bed - not if he woke up at 1am and needed to puke again.
Which he did. And he missed the bucket next to our bed. Thank goodness for floorboards. He proceeded to repeat that about every half hour until 0800hrs.
I dragged the floor rug out to the backyard this morning to hose it off. As I was hanging up the washing, Number 3 decided to inspect the damage. He peeled back the folded over rug and gave it a close inspection.
"Daddy, I see carrots".
And I'm sure that won't be the last time you see them either.
Reminds me of Catch 22 when the tail gunner was shot up and Yossarian, trying to comfort him, opened his jacket which, in turn, revealed the contents of his stomach - tomatoes. Yossarian hated tomatoes and threw up.
Number 3 may have a career in literature.
Everyone knows there's always carrots and corn in your vomit, even if you've never eaten any...
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