So Kates and I had our first experience with Phoebe throwing up this morning ...
As usual, Phoebe woke us at around 7:30 with her cries of "Mommy!" and "out!" -- meaning she wants out of her crib.
Kates and I sighed at another Saturday morning of rising earlier than either of us would like and walked across the hall to Phoebe's room.
As soon we entered, something didn't smell right ... And then, there it was all over her sheet and blankets. The remnants of yesterday's tomatoes, grapes and carrots, in all their mushy, half-chewed glory. And Phoebe's cheek, which had been lying in it for who knows how long, was crusted and burned from unstuffed food.
In parenthood horror, Kates immediately pulled Phoebe from her crib, stripped her and prepared a bath, while I pulled the sheets from her bed, gathered all the blankets and stuffed animals involved and made the gag-filled march to the laundry room.
The sight and smell was so foul as I rinsed the blankets and sheet under hot water that I gagged a few times myself. One time, I gagged so hard I thought it was over, I was about to blow some chunks of my own.
I survived, though, and got everything in the washing machine without further damage. Back upstairs, Kates finished giving Phoebe a bath, and we spent the first couple hours of our Saturday washing stuffed animals, wiping down Phoebe's crib and, yes, even a wall that wasn't left untouched by the flying food.
Phoebe's fine, of course, and is now waltzing around like nothing happened.
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