Part III: My Favorite Superpower

Part I: Superpowers at the Armory

Part II: Superpowers Aren't Enough

Part III: My Favorite Superpower

I slowly stood up and turned to walk backwards, leading Joel to the bathroom.  Bent over, taking tiny steps, I was encouraging him as we went.

"Come on, buddy, you're doing great."

*hurl*

"Walk with me, buddy.  Good job."

*yack*

"You can do it, big guy."

*gag*

By the time, I was out my bedroom door and starting around the corner into the bathroom, Kyle was by my side.  I pleaded, "Help me.  Get him to the bathroom."  

"Here's the bowl," he insisted.

I didn't see the bowl, but I looked again... I didn't see it because it wasn't one of my shiny stainless steel bowls, it was a clear bowl - the bottom piece of our salad spinner. 

Oh, the stainless bowls are dirty - I knew that.

Kyle was securely holding the bowl so I uncupped my hands and allowed the contents to fall into the bowl with a thud.  Then, I lightly shook my hands.  Plop plop. 

I washed my hands while Kyle tended to Joel. 

Joel puked again.

I washed my hands again. 

Joel stood there in a retch-induced stupor.  

I smell-checked my hands and washed them again.

Kyle poured the contents of the salad spinner down the garbage disposal.

I washed my hands again. 

I heard the blades chew the chunks Joel had not. 

I washed my hands again.

We got Joel a drink of water, assisted him in brushing his teeth, and examined his pjs in the light.  To our surprise, they were clean - vomit free.  So we tucked him back into bed and hoped for the best. 

We went back to our room and climbed into bed, but I got back up immediately and washed my hands - again - and rinsed them in bottled lemon juice. 

We laughed at the whole debacle to calm our nerves and eventually went back to sleep. 

It wasn't until the next morning that I noticed my cupped hands could not, after all, hold the contents of a toddler's stomach.  There was one quarter sized spot of upchuck that had spewed on to the side of the bed and landed on the sheets.  Ew.

And then, I sank to an all-time low.  I made the bed.  That's right, it was on the vertical surface and I wasn't going to touch it so I left it there. For two days.  Without regret. 

Some of you are totally appalled that I would actually leave my child's expelled vittles on the side of my bed and not lose a wink of sleep, but I implore you: don't judge me.  I was (and still am) using my favorite, most essential, and most revered Parental Superpower:  Survival. 

Salad anyone?