Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Over the weekend, Diana and I had a rare moment out of the house with the kids. Our great babysitter Molly was in charge. As we were pretending we were young and childless and about to embark on a stat- wide crime spree, Diana’s cell phone rang. It was Molly. In between moans, Molly was barely able to communicate that she had come down with a massive flu bug over the last couple hours and was puking uncontrollably.
I told Diana to tell her how disappointed I was she couldn’t watch two young children and vomit at the same time, but she rightfully ignored me. We then looked at each other with the same look. The look that says, “A hundred bucks says our sons will cover us with barf in the next 24 hours.”
Yesterday morning I walked out of the shower and found Elijah happily sitting in his usual spot in front of the TV. But he was covered in barf. Covered. I asked, “Are you ok?” and he happily said, “I puked!” And then proceeded to jump into my freshly showered arms.
Later in the day, Diana called and said, “I’m on my sixth outfit of the day.” Apparently, both boys were using her as barf target practice.
I mentioned the fact that Eli was so good natured about his barfing earlier in the day and she said both he and Luca were in terrific moods. They’d laugh and giggle and play, pause to cover Diana in barf, and then go back to giggling and playing.
So I guess it could be worse.
p.s. Here’s a quick, non barf story. Diana was driving Eli and Luca around today when they passed a cyclist. Eli announced, “I do not want a kitchen set anymore mommy. I want a big boy bike!”
I was happy to hear he wanted a bike. But confused that it was replacing a kitchen set.