Tonight, right as I got done washing the boys and was waiting for the soapy water to drain before refilling the bath, Squeektar threw up. Repeatedly. On the plus side, he was already naked, and it is so much easier to clean stuff off porcelain than, say, carpets or couches. And first trimester is over, so the sight and smell of vomit no longer induces me to do some throwing up of my own. On the minus side, ewwww.
Six days out of seven, BelovedSpouse gives the kids their bath. Statistically, the screwy things should be happening to him. But no, I am the lucky one who gets mystery pee on carpets, toilet-bowl-bailing-out attempts, and now a half-digested McDonald’s happy meal all over the tub.
[continued half an hour later]
Well, spouse got home and discovered that Squeektar threw up some more in his sleep. Poor thing. I am crossing my fingers that it’s just something he ate…