A Tale of Tossed Cookies

    Remember that innocent little post I made a couple of days ago.  The post about how nothing had happened in a while.  Well God decided to throw a little excitement my way.  In the form of a stomach virus.  For my two year old.  Of course he gave it to the one person in our family who has no concept of aiming for a toilet.  Or even a bucket!  Oh no.  He simply walks around until he can find the nearest sprawl of carpet.  Then he empties the entire contents of his stomach through means of projectile vomit.  THEN he calls out to tell me his "beh-wee hoatz."  Bless his heart.  I know he can't help it.
    So last night I sat down to start reading a new book I had just bought a few hours earlier.  I had fed the kids,  gave them a little ice cream for dessert, I got them ready for bed, and then turned on a movie for them to fall asleep to.  (Don't judge.  You've done it too.  You're just not brave enough to tell anybody.)  Finally it was me time.  I haven't read a book in ages and I was very excited about getting lost in its pages.  I was on page four when I heard a loud thump followed by a pitiful wale/shriek.  I immediately dropped the book and sprinted upstairs.  As I was heading into the boys room I noticed an odd goo on the floor in front of the bathroom door.  "Eew!  One of the dogs must have thrown up.  I guess I'll be cleaning that up next," I thought.  I entered the boys room and immediately noticed Wesley was not in his bed.  I spun around and hopped over the odd goo and into the bathroom.  There was Wesley, sprawled all over the bathroom floor where he'd fell off of the stool in front of the sink.  And EEK!  He had dog puke on his face!  Oh wait....that's not dog puke.  That's Wesley puke!  He pitifully told me, "My beh-wee hoatz, and I fay-aw down adain."  That poor baby is always falling down or off of something.  I yelled for Brian to come help me, and a moment later he was standing in the doorway gagging and coughing and trying not to breathe.  "Oh my goodness it's EVERYWHERE!," he screeched.   Everywhere?  I didn't see it everywhere.  Oh my goodness....it WAS everywhere.
    He had tossed his cookies by his bed, down the hall, and in front of the bathroom door.  About .37% of it had landed on the hard floor of the bathroom.  The other 99.63% had graced my carpet with its presence.   Since my gagging husband was of little help to me, I threw my sobbing Wesley in the tub.  "It's in my nose!," he cried.  "I know baby, Momma's gonna clean you up,"  I said.  "With no help from Daddy,"  I mumbled.  I then proceeded to scrub the floor over and over and over again.  Ian was shrieking, "Eew!  What's that smell?  Wesley you stink."  Wesley was screaming back, "No, I not stink, Iah!"  "Yes, you do."  "No, I not!"  It went on and on.  Finally everyone was clean and settled back to bed.  I got a bucket and explained to Wesley that next time he felt bad he should scream for momma and then aim for the bucket.  Who was I kidding?  About two hours later I heard another thump.  You guessed it.  More regurgitation, and no where near the bucket.  He'd honed in on the carpet and let it fly.  The previous scenario began all over again.
    Fast forward to today.  Wesley bounced around the house all day like nothing was wrong.  Except for the fact that he refused to eat, you would have never guessed anything was wrong with him.  Around 5:00 when we began to eat dinner, he decided he was hungry.  I gave him a bowl full of saltine crackers and some  water, and he filled his belly.  I thought we were in the clear.  I thought wrong.  Shortly after getting up from the table I found a trail of "cracker mash" down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the dining room.  Immediately I commanded him to "Sit!"  Like an obedient dog, he sat.  And then he barfed again.  And then he barfed yet again.  Baaaaaaaaa!  At least this time he managed to keep it all on hard floor.  Easy to clean!  And wouldn't you know Brian just happened to be at the bookstore.  He managed to come in right as I was finishing the clean up job.  He casually asked, "So, you need my help or you got it?"  He sooooo knew the answer.  I have no idea how he timed that so perfectly. 

My apologies to anyone who ate before they read this!

Rachel

P.S.  Does anyone have a carpet shampooer I can borrow?