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and in my son's bed room. I looked in on him and his friend. Both were asleep so I shut off the light. I turned around to shut off the bathroom light, like any good mother would, to witness the Mother Of All Puke Messes I have ever witnessed in all my adulthood: with puking children.
I stood there blinking thinking no, wishing I was dreaming. I go back into the room and ask who threw up. My son's friend "puke boy" said, "me, I couldn't wake you up." I thought to myself, "I can't see why, but nevertheless, thank you for not puking on me trying."
The entire floor was covered in pizzasodabrowniewater mixture. It was so bad that I think I'll need therapy to get over it. I tell him to come help me for a second. He lays the biggest towel over the ocean of smelly slop and backs out of the bathroom and sits on the hall floor. I realize, being the good mother that I am, that not even he can handle this mess so, I throw more towels over the mess. He holds the bag open as I attempt to put them in.
He farts then farts again and I tell him to go back to bed. He says sorry about the mess on his way back.
The less than pleasant oder fill my lungs and sends a signal to my stomach. I start to sweat. The mess is a foot high on the walls, door, shower curtain and sink cabinet not to mention covering the entire toilet. Charles Manson and that house they did all those crimes in flashed through my head as I began to spray and wipe.
"Puke boy" must have aimed at the toilet but the lid was down. Of all the cotton picken times my son decides to follow my instructions. He's gonna get it for that! And the hot stream of goop must have hit that and sprayed. I can tell that he must have lifted the lid while he was taking his next breath, preparing for the next flow of hot liquid to shoot out because the rest of the toilet and back of the toilet wall got it next. Then he must have lifted the seat and blew chunks on the rim. I saw the toilet water, there was next to nothing floating in it, but being the good mother that I am I flushed anyway.
I took me 35 minutes to clean it up. I used my handy, dandy blue glove so I wouldn't get any on me...the left one, because my right one was gone. I'm right handed.
Now that my stomach contents have settled and I've stopped sweating I think I'll go back to bed.
If anybody says any remark feeling sorry for "Puke boy" I'm sending you the very large bag of towels that are waiting to be cleaned.
I'm having flash backs already...
night
http://smiley.smileycentral.com/download/index.jhtml?partner=ZSzeb098_ZSYYYYYYYYUS&utm_id=7926
I stood there blinking thinking no, wishing I was dreaming. I go back into the room and ask who threw up. My son's friend "puke boy" said, "me, I couldn't wake you up." I thought to myself, "I can't see why, but nevertheless, thank you for not puking on me trying."
The entire floor was covered in pizzasodabrowniewater mixture. It was so bad that I think I'll need therapy to get over it. I tell him to come help me for a second. He lays the biggest towel over the ocean of smelly slop and backs out of the bathroom and sits on the hall floor. I realize, being the good mother that I am, that not even he can handle this mess so, I throw more towels over the mess. He holds the bag open as I attempt to put them in.
He farts then farts again and I tell him to go back to bed. He says sorry about the mess on his way back.
The less than pleasant oder fill my lungs and sends a signal to my stomach. I start to sweat. The mess is a foot high on the walls, door, shower curtain and sink cabinet not to mention covering the entire toilet. Charles Manson and that house they did all those crimes in flashed through my head as I began to spray and wipe.
"Puke boy" must have aimed at the toilet but the lid was down. Of all the cotton picken times my son decides to follow my instructions. He's gonna get it for that! And the hot stream of goop must have hit that and sprayed. I can tell that he must have lifted the lid while he was taking his next breath, preparing for the next flow of hot liquid to shoot out because the rest of the toilet and back of the toilet wall got it next. Then he must have lifted the seat and blew chunks on the rim. I saw the toilet water, there was next to nothing floating in it, but being the good mother that I am I flushed anyway.
I took me 35 minutes to clean it up. I used my handy, dandy blue glove so I wouldn't get any on me...the left one, because my right one was gone. I'm right handed.
Now that my stomach contents have settled and I've stopped sweating I think I'll go back to bed.
If anybody says any remark feeling sorry for "Puke boy" I'm sending you the very large bag of towels that are waiting to be cleaned.
I'm having flash backs already...
night
http://smiley.smileycentral.com/download/index.jhtml?partner=ZSzeb098_ZSYYYYYYYYUS&utm_id=7926
Terri, I skipped breakfast after reading this, kimmi
Kikazaru, that story is priceless. My father also has a pristine lawn and I can just imagine his perplexity in such a situation.
