Motherhood is not for the fainthearted, or the weak-stomached.
Today we got up, showered, and told Gus we were heading to the B&O Railroad Museum.
This kid is on a train kick lately, and to say he was excited about it was an understatement.
Halfway there, he told us he was wet. After a sippy cup malfunction this morning we assumed it had happened again, and I had a change of clothes in the car so I wasn’t too worried.
Then I smelled the smell, and knew it wasn’t juice waiting for me in the backseat.
Gus has never really thrown up before. Until today.
Today he has perfected it.
We made it to the museum, and he was so excited about the trains we could see just in the parking lot. After I got him cleaned up and into dry clothes, we were debating what to do, when he threw up again, even more, onto EVERYTHING.
So then we scrambled, and found more clothes (thank god I had a trunk full of shirts and pants he’s too tall for) and turned around and drove back home.
He was so sad, 1) because toddlers DO NOT understand vomit, and 2) because he just wanted to go see the trains I’d promised him.
Now we’re hanging out in the bathtub, watching Curious George until we run out of warm water. Because I know as soon as I dry him off and dress him, it’s going to happen again.