Wednesday, May 26, 2010

squirting bubbles

At one point on Saturday, as Donovan stood up from driving the porcelain bus, he shakily said, "Mom, I'm sorry. When I was throwing up, I just...I mean, my underwear...it just..." Knowing exactly what he was getting at, I headed to his room for a fresh pair. But he kept talking, "I couldn't help it. It just...squirted." Yep, got it. No need to keep telling me.

Beautiful. I love how kids can use the simplest words to describe things in acute detail. About 3 more times that day he would finish retching and say, "I think I squirted again." And, really, when you're barfing over 20 times, 4 times isn't too bad.

Gemma, on the other hand, seems to be delayed just a day or two. I wisely switched to disposable diapers right after she got sick, on the suspicion that things would turn ugly down south. Good catch, me. It's horrific. Her stink radius immediately following a movement is about 10 feet. I was hoping we'd be fit for the public today, but now I think not. The good news is that we are all in relatively better spirits. Yesterday, as she stood very still, body angled slightly forward and face turning pink as she was obviously baring down, I heard the telltale rumblings of certain devastation. As soon as it had passed, her eyes lifted and she brightly said, "Bubbles!"

That is a way better way to describe it than squirting. And this will hopefully conclude this whole disease topic. Who really wants to talk about barf and poop this much? You got it, right? No need to keep talking about it. I suppose that's where Donovan gets it after all.

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