"Come on Coop, let me brush your teeth!" This is a nightly battle. The child, known affectionately as Coop, hates having his teeth brushed. Finally, he gave in & let his father, known as Matt or Dad to the child, began brushing, unaware of the looming threat.
The Dad accidentally hits a sensitive spot in child's mouth, his stomach sucks in and everything begins to go in slow motion.
"You ok buddy?" Father looks at child, pulls the culprit out of his mouth and BAM! Matt gets hit with a torpedo of vomit, "AHK," then he gets pelted with another, "OHH, SICK!" It is then the husband realizes he is under a full blown attack.
Matt sits, stunned by his wounds. The wife instantly begins gagging and dry heaving as she is not as strong as her masculine and extremely handsome husband. But she attempts to muster up some courage and helps her husband rise up to take the child to the bathroom. But first, she must grab the most important thing needed at a moment like this; air freshener and Mentholatum.
She applies the Mentholatum to her nose thinking she's on an airplane. "You put your mask on first then help your loved ones," she remembers hearing. Then she puts Mentholatum on her husband as the battle has only begun.
The wife heads back to the scene of attack with a bucket of soapy water, SHOUT, carpet cleaner, sponge and paper towels. She begins clean-up, all the while thanking her God that He has created Mentholatum, soap, water, carpet cleaner, paper towels, sponges and SHOUT but most importantly air freshener.
She clears away the chunks of chicken the assailant had for dinner. From the bathroom, come noises only known in war time; gagging, dry heaving and tears.
The child and husband wash themselves clean. The wife can not get the smell out of the microfiber recliner. She worries of its survival.
Once cleaned the child gets put to bed, the husband sits on the couch trying to suppress the recent events. He only wants pie; pie the wife made the night before.
From the bedroom of the assailant come cries. The masculine husband walks into the room and notices the bed is under attack and the child is crying, "Made a mess, made a mess." The hearts of the husband and wife break and realize the child is under attack NOT them! It was an astonishing revelation.
The child gets cleaned again.
Husband holds child with a t-shirt in hopes to block what ever might come out of the child's mouth.
"I'm hit, I'm hit!" yells the husband. Sure enough, he was injured again and took another bath with the child.
Then began the night of war.
War is ugly folks, war is ugly.
Hope he's better. Hate it when our little people don't feel good.
ReplyDelete-Amy
So not fond of the middle of the night attacks. Especially when they make it almost to the bathroom but end up losing it right at the door on the carpet. We still cannot get the red stain from the ketchup out.
ReplyDeleteI hate throw up. Let's just make that perfectly clear but I loved that post. Very funny, although I bet it wasn't that funny if you were there. Thanks for posting that Megan.
ReplyDeleteOhhh my, I hope he gets to feeling better soon
ReplyDeleteWOW, my daughter was that way. She always kept me running back and forth for clean up and hose down.
ReplyDeletenot fun at all...especially when it is from one of our kids..and even harder when the child is young and doesn't understand to aim in the toilet. what kind of pie did you make?
ReplyDeleteLC
LC I made a heath/pecan pie. I got it from Martha Stewart's site. The pie won an award or something.
ReplyDeleteNasty! I hate those nights...
ReplyDeleteTerri