Tori’s Writing Hole

Ok, so when is vomit funny? I guess that’s a subjective question - plastic puke may crack some people up, as may fake barf shown on TV. However, real life throw-up is hardly ever funny. Especially when it’s spewing from your toddler at an alarming rate onto the nearest furry family member, namely, our dog Dakota.

Julia’s little throat decided that one crumb of her breakfast bar was just one crumb too many, and she decided to projectile vomit said bar across her outfit and downward. The only problem was, she was sitting on my lap at the time. And Dakota was directly under us, waiting for any stray tidbits to fall. Well, something fell- in a white chunky stripe across his furry back, ending with a dollop on his head.

Of course, the floor was not immune, so I was left with:

1. Toddler covered in barf
2. Dog decorated with streamers of barf
3. Two puddles of barf on the floor

As I quickly scooped up Julia and cleaned her, Dakota commenced eating said puddle. Ick. So I hurriedly took him for a bath as well. Then (thank God for wood floors) I got to come back to the living room and clean the floor. Tired, oh so tired.

Moral of the story? Train daughter to save vomit for when Daddy’s on duty. Train dog not to look up lovingly at me with puke on his head, big brown eyes saying “Don’t you wanna pet me now?” Oh, and no more breakfast bars.

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