Just When You Thought It Was Safe

Possum is 5 years 8 months

Bandicoot is 3 years 5 months

Little Princess is 1 year

 

This story comes with a bodily fluids warning…

We were to meet an old friend of DH’s for lunch today.  We had a big discussion about quarantine vs catching up with people we haven’t seen in ages.  Eventually, clinging tight to the they-were-only-sick-for-twelve-hours argument, DH convinced me.

So there we were, having a lovely lunch in a pub with a great kids play area, when Bandicoot stood in the doorway looking at us all forlornly.  Eventually he wanders over and I take the opportunity to try and entice him to eat or drink something.  (Mothers.  *sheesh*  What can I say?  Always trying to feed the kids.)

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a poo in my nappy.”  He paused before continuing, “and it is all yellow.”

“How do you know it is yellow?”  (Really, there wasn’t going to be a good answer to this question, was there?  Why do we take ourselves to these places?)

“Because it is down my leg.”

Now, fortunately, Quota has a 4 1/2 year old daughter.  Although she wasn’t there today, he does know about kids.

I grabbed a nappy bag and a child and headed to the toilets for the horror clean up duty.  Soon Bandicoot was feeling much better – until he walked into the door.  I returned him to DH, half dressed, and dashed to the car for the back-up shorts I had brought for him.

By the time I returned, Little Princess had the grizzles.  We all assumed it is because Bandicoot has had some good Mummy attention.  Man, are those two jealous!  However, when she was passed to me – I check – yes, I thought I could smell it.  Back to the toilets with the nappy bag.

As we returned, something was different.  The chairs were spread from the table and there was food all over the floor.  I knew Little Princess had done and impressive table clearing act at one point (as only kids of a certain age can do), but I didn’t think she had made THAT much mess.

Quota looked at me, not quite succeeding at not laughing out loud, “You missed the whole projectile vomit!”

What?!!

Apparently, without warning, Bandicoot opened his mouth and re-enacted a scene from a horror movie, firing straight at DH with considerable force (no mean feat, considering he had eaten two slices of cucumber and a glass of apple juice).  One leg of DH’s shorts was in desperate need of a wash.  Once the children were sorted – again – he went and attended to it.

Poor Quota, now almost in hysterics, tried to tell me what had happened.  He demonstrated, acting out the different roles, including the slowly dawning look of horror on DH’s face and then the hand used to block the stream, like a superhero’s deflector shield, an act which largely resulted in increasing the splatter zone.  He was laughing so hard he could hardly stand up or speak.

I have to say those laughs were contagious.  Sometimes it is the only way to deal with a situation.

(BTW The darling waitress wouldn’t let us help her clean up at all.  How kind was that?  Blessing to you, Nora.)

It certainly wasn’t the lunch any of us expected, but, as Quota put it, it certainly was entertaining!

 

 

And you will be pleased to know that things finally seem to be settling down…

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