Apr 01 2008

Nightmares of Sharks and Vomit

This morning, as I was trying to get back to sleep after being woken up by Cole’s Cars pillow narration, I started thinking about our upcoming trip to Hawaii. At first, I was relaxed; dreaming about warm beach naps and delicious food, but then (as my brain often does) I started thinking about all the bad things that could happen. I dreamed of sharks eating us as we were swimming in the clear water; the plane crashing and sharks eating us as we treaded water in the middle of the ocean; the plane crashing and Cole sinking to the bottom of the ocean because I couldn’t get him out of his car seat and the sharks eating his poor little drowned body (are you sensing a theme?). So now, the whole trip will be ruined just a little bit with the shadows of these nightmares hanging over me, because once I’ve thought it, it can’t be un-thought. Especially when it comes to sharks.

So- the cat vomit. Cole did not mean to eat cat vomit. Some generous neighborhood cat (DON’T EVEN get me started on roaming neighborhood cats: HATEHATEHATE!!) had deposited a pile of vomit on top of Cole’s (new to us) slide/climbing set thingy (technical terms- don’t let them intimidate you). Then it rained just a little- not enough to wash it away, but just enough to make it spread out all nice and disgusting-like.

Cole and I were outside doing a little yard work. He decided that he wanted to go play on his slide. Sure, Son! Go! Enjoy it while you can! This summer it will be so hot it’ll melt the skin off of your heinie! Instead of just sliding, though, he thought it would be fun to put some dirt on top and smear it around. He’s into the distressed look, I guess. At some point, the smear of dirt joined with the smear of vomit, and THEN he somehow got something in his mouth and had to stick his fingers in to wipe it out or something. Fingers that were covered in vomit-dirt. I turned around to the “pleh!pleh!” sounds of him “spitting” (he makes the noise, but doesn’t really know how to spit) and went over to investigate. Upon discovery of the noisome melange, I picked up the frustratedly struggling Cole (No! Don’t take me away from my vomity-dirt! I was just getting the consistency right!) and whisked him away to the sink inside to wash out his mouth and scrub his hands. I did consider if cat vomit or soap would be more harmful in his mouth, but eventually decided that he probably didn’t get much vomit in there anyway, and that soap would probably be harder to wash out. I figured I’d start worrying for real if he started vomiting. He didn’t. He’s fine.