Saturday, June 29, 2013

Oh...wonderful.

My poor little imp gave me another job to do tonight: throwing away all of the bath toys and cleaning the tub.  He learned, the hard way, that you never trust a fart when your tummy hurts.  Poor little guy.  Freaked him right out, and when I got in there, he was shivering outside of the tub, pointing, and asked me to pull the plug for him.  Big fat tears rolling down his face.  It took me a few minutes to convince him that it was an accident, and I wasn't mad at him, no matter how gross it was (and he was gagging).

I love my kids, but I'm very thankful that I have a very strong stomach.

6 comments:

  1. Ah...the joys of parenting.

    Better you than me.

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    1. Yeah. Your part of dealing with child vomit and poo is past...until your kids gift you with grandchildren.

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  2. You're not really a parent until you've had at least 4 different bodily emissions to clean up, usually off of your clothing.

    Hope he's feeling better.

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    Replies
    1. Yep. At last count, I've had half a dozen different bodily emissions (assuming snot and coughed up phlegm count as separate) from each child, usually all over the furniture, my clothes, their clothes, and/or the carpet.

      Did you know that rubbing alcohol will help get fresh blood out of a white tee shirt?

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