I'm not sure, but I think my kids may be having a contest to see who can throw up the most.
My dear children have managed to puke in every conceivable locale this week:
The bed... a classic.
The stairs... the tricky clean up.
The tub... multitasking at it's best.
The car... awesome. I love figuring out how to get those car seat covers on and off of your seats. Thanks for giving me that opportunity for personal growth.
I think the worst part of this whole "contest" has been that they don't appear to truly be sick.
They cry (the tell-tale barf cry).
They skip away to dump out boxes of toothpicks in my pantry.
Don't get me wrong... I don't want my kids to be sick. But, if they are going to throw up all over my house, then I feel I am entitled to have the requisite pitiful kid who doesn't move except to drink Gatorade and sleeps most of the day on my couch.
Well, now that I have secured my nomination for the most compassionate mom of the year, I guess I'll sign off.
But in my defense, I think the fumes from the disinfecting wipes must be getting to me.