It was Monday evening and Emily had been complaining about her stomach hurting. She is a very slow and minimal eater though, especially for dinner. She has a habit of not only filling her belly up on her cup of milk, but making excuses for why she cannot eat the rest of her food. "I'm cold" (it's 78 degrees in the house). "I'm full" (she only had one bite and will complain about being hungry in another hour). "my boo boo hurts" (it's a 3-day old scratch). ""I have to go potty" (then she reads three books over the course of an hour and only pees). "I don't like this food" (what's not to like about spinach and asparagus souffle with limburger cheese and liver?).
So her complaint was mostly ignored, although we let her sit on the couch for a while. When she said she felt better, I let her come back to the table and encouraged her to eat more. As per our usual routine, I tried to persuade her by offering dessert after a certain goal was met. Well, time ran out and she didn't reach her goal, so I didn't give her dessert. And in hindsight it was certainly for the best.
Amanda had already left to attend a Beth Moore Bible study with other women at church. The kitchen was a mess too, and I had just finished getting Clara down from the table. I had given her a small piece of chocolate cake, which she had eaten hand to mouth (still working on the fork skills). Needless to say, there were cake crumbs all over the kitchen and probably in three adjacent rooms besides. By now it was getting late and the kids still needed to get a bath before going to bed.
I was just finishing cleaning Clara's mess when Emily ran past me and into the bathroom. "I throwed up!" echoed from around the corner of the doorway. "Well, at least she made it to the bathroom" I thought "which means it should mostly be in the toilet, right?" Well, maybe not in the toilet.
How about on, and around, and in the books, and on the carpets, and cabinets, as you can see in the above picture (yes, I took a picture). Emily was sweet in trying to help, but to do so she grabbed a clean towel from the wall-mounted rack and threw it over the puke, hence adding another casualty to the carnage.
After cleaning up the mess and starting a load of laundry, I bathed the kids and got them to bed. It was an hour later than usual, but the end of the evening was never more welcomed.
1 comment:
Ok, so here I am... I just loved your "gross" category. (Maybe because I've been dealing with this issue this past week on the home front myself?)
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