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.
3 hours ago
Ah...the joys of parenting.
ReplyDeleteBetter you than me.
Yeah. Your part of dealing with child vomit and poo is past...until your kids gift you with grandchildren.
DeleteSeen that, done that
ReplyDeleteEvery parent has.
DeleteYou're not really a parent until you've had at least 4 different bodily emissions to clean up, usually off of your clothing.
ReplyDeleteHope he's feeling better.
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.
DeleteDid you know that rubbing alcohol will help get fresh blood out of a white tee shirt?