The moaning behind the bathroom door indicated that his bowels were calling out an SOS.
I poked my head in and saw his naked body hunched on the toilet.
“Don’t look at me!” he screamed.
I quickly shut the door realizing that my 4 year old now demands his privacy.
(Which is odd since he likes to occasionally strip down to his birthday suit and press his wiener on the patio window for the neighbors to see.)
(And then there was this one time he pulled his pants down and made his butt talk.)
(It was magical moment.)
“I’m trying to poop Mom but my butt won’t let me!”
The toilet seat had begun to squeak as he rocked back and forth.
“It’s ok babe. Just breathe,” I coached.
His moans grew louder.
“Mom there is something wrong,” he said just as I heard all 45 pounds of him hit the floor.
I swung the door open and saw the look that school janitors fear.
“This isn’t poop,” he said.
His shoulders lurched forward as his stomach thrust through his esophagus, out of his mouth, and onto the bathroom floor.
Now, for those of you who don’t have children there is this tiny window of time when a parent begins to think of a few things before the vomit starts chasing you.
- This just royally fucked up my night.
- Why did I feed him spaghetti?
- How does this tiny creature hold so much content?
- I can’t even identify that.
- Is that a shoe?
- Why are you running towards me?
- Stop running.
- No seriously. I’m allowing you to just stand there and spray the shower curtains.
- I’m out of laundry detergent.
- I hate WalMart.
As he came at me, I did what any other parent would do.
I shut the bathroom door…
…let me finish my sentence now…
I shut the bathroom door to deflect the bulk of the puke.
(Have you ever seen someone run into a Tsunami?)
(But you do see people running in after it’s over to clean up.)
(So picture me as the United Nations of Parents.)
(A saint if you will.)
I waited for the chunks to stop pelting the door and then walked in.
Write this down:
“Don’t be your kid’s hero”
Don’t forgot about the second wave.
As his mouth stretched open, I grabbed the hand towel and put it in front of his face.
(I learned that little trick when I worked as a pediatric nurse.)
(I was compassionate like that.)
Then I heard a weakened voice, “Momma, what happened?”
I disgustingly looked down at warm vomit in between my toes and then at his sad face.
“You barfed on my pajamas.”
“And I’m very naked,” he giggled as he lowered himself on the floor.
“Umm, Momma this isn’t good.”
And I knew what was coming the second I heard his tiny butt cheeks clap the tile as he farted.
Moral of the story is, kids are really fucking gross.
Ps. 10 kids from his class were sick that day…new school record.
PPS. Chunky said “Elaina puked in class today! It looked just like mine! How did my puke get in her tummy?”