The Teenager contracted the stomach flu sometime yesterday and was up most of the night, puking.
In a rare case of role reversal, Hugh was the first to hear the child when she commenced with the barfing and was, therefore, the first responder to the emergency.
To say this role reversal was a rare occurrence is actually a vast understatement, because, in all actuality; it had previously never happened in our home. Seriously. Not once in The Teenager's almost seventeen years on this planet has her father awoken to the sounds of her getting sick. Not once.
He was awakened by her retching one time before, however; it wasn't the sound that awakened him; it was the sensation of a stream of vomit cascading down his shoulder and onto his chest, as the child was sleeping in between us at the time.
Now, I have to pause to clear the image of that moment from my head, because, if I don't; I might pee myself from laughing so hard, which is what always happens when I remember his reaction to that episode....
...I'm sorry, but it really was that hilarious.
Hugh's first words upon waking in a puddle of vomit were: "Did she just drool on me? Wait! What? Is? THAT? OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! Did she PUKE on me?!!!" At which point he began to gag and ran to the adjoining bathroom. Unfortunately (for him), I had already retreated to that bathroom with the child, so, I was holding the baby over the toilet, leaving Hugh no option but to employ a Herculean attempt not to puke, himself....
...gag, drop head between kees, look heavenward, take a deep breath, gag, rinse, repeat...
His attempts not to throw up were...not sucessful, and, some bathtub cleanup was required once all was said and done.
For my part? Well, I was watching the entire thing as though it was a movie projected on the big screen; detached from the seriousness of the situation and laughing hard enough to require the use of the old Kegle muscles, if you know what I mean.
I blame hysteria for my reaction at that particular moment in time.
I have nothing to blame for still having that exact same reaction all these years later, each time I so much as think about the episode, but, humans; man, are we strange.
Anyway, to make a long story short (too late!); Hugh was the first responder last night and The Teenager is on the mend, today.
Also, I need to visit the ladies room, now. Because not even 100 Kegle exercises a day can repair the damage of two natural childbirths; not once hysterical laughter begins to have its' way with you, anyway.
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