Okay, so, yesterday I'm in this incredibly shitty mood because of something happening at the school/in the district (I'll blog about it in a few days after it's hopefully resolved. This isn't at all relevant to the story, I'm just giving you a teaser so that you'll want to come back and find out. You're riveted now!) Child 1 is acting all weird and moving slowly and wanting to lie down and snuggle a lot (gotta love that, though). He ate one strand of spaghetti for dinner, which for him is a huge red flag because he's a goddamn bottomless pit these days. And then he crawled into bed and went to sleep. I should take a moment to point out that this was MY bed he crawled into. Because, as you know, barfing, pooping or any disgusting bodily function that smells bad and makes a huge mess must take place in my bed. That's the rule. Apparently.
So, he goes to sleep around 7:00. Child 2 gets shuttled off to bed at the usual time and Child 1 stays where he is. He wakes up around 10:00 and just lies there for a while, staring into space. And then.... yep. Guess what happened next? I'll try not to be too graphic, but let's just say that the adjective "projectile" is actually something that can happen.
Okay, Puke Fairy. If I admit defeat here will you leave me alone? You win, PF; you have definitely kicked my ass. I'm sorry I ever threatened to fight back, I should have realized that I was actually powerless against your magical abilities to make me have to wash the sheets on my bed AGAIN. I LOST, PUKE FAIRY! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR VICTORY!
Now will you please go away? Please?