So last week, CPT Dick hit something with my car. No matter that it had just come back from the shop and was all fixed and pretty. It was dark out, he ran the front end into something, and whee!, the whole front of the car is broken. Including the A/C.
But while I wait for the parts to come in, I can still drive it. And I think, it's a gorgeous, hot, sunny day -- Munchkin and I should go to the playground! So I get him in the car, open the windows and get going.
And then, just as I pull into the park. He pukes. Great, solid gobs of puke that have cascaded down his front, into every nook and cranny of the car seat. And somehow after I cry a little, I get his clothes off without getting too much vomit in his hair and I do a precursory wipe of the car seat. I put down an old blanket so he won't be too wet and uncomfortable on the ride home. Of course, it's a nice blanket that I would rather not be pukey, but it's all I have.
But just as I'm ready to head home, he sees the slide. As if he's seeing that big, silver behemoth for the first time and he will die if he does not manage to climb it's laddery peak. The fact that he's naked save for a diaper is no deterrent. But I can't do it. Too many Moms there, too much judgment. So I return him to his carseat and he's none too happy about it. I don't blame him.
So we drive home. In my black car. That stinks of puke. And when I open the window, Munchkin protests because he's pretty much naked in a wet seat. So the windows are closed, the car is black, the sun is hot and that puke is smelly. And just as I think it can't get worse, I notice something. That? That smell? Oh yeah.
It was fish stick day at school. With Tartar sauce.
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