I have to say that I have never seen anyone projectile vomit. That is, until last night.
Marissa clearly got a 24-hour virus, something that's been going around daycare. She began throwing up at 10 pm, first covering her ENTIRE down comforter in the largest chunks of curdled milk I've ever seen. She managed to spray the wall, the entire footboard, the hamper at the end of her bed and, of course, the floors.
So while I cleaned up this mess, Wayne held her and comforted her. As soon as it was clean, she immediately did it again, this time while sitting on his lap. It made a distinct, almost comical "SPLAT" sound as it hit the floor, his legs, her blankie and sheep, the seat cushion of the rocker, etc and so forth.
So once again, bring out the mop, strip everything down, etc. etc. I think I cleaned nonstop for two hours while she kept puking. We could never tell when she was going to do it until it suddenly came out of her, thus the reason why she covered nearly her whole room and the hallway floor before she finally stopped.
The icing on the cake had to be when I let Dax out during this entire ordeal, during one of my many trips to the basement to get a mop and rags. I came back through the area to let him inside, only to see that the cushion I had set outside to dry from my scrubbing it had some "new" water on it. Yep, he had marked his territory well on that cushion.
Remember earlier when I said I need to take up kick boxing? Well, I couldn't kick the dog, I couldn't assault the child, so today I have to call my neighbors and apologize for the obscenities that were screamed into the air around 10:30 at night as I stood outside, chunky comforter in one hand and peed-on cushion in the other, letting out my frustration.
Some day this will be funny. That day has not quite arrived.