If talk of vomit, germs, or vomittey, germy kids is not your bag. I totally understand.
In my house, I'm the Vomit Patrol. It's a thankless position requiring a strong stomach and lots of towels. There is no relaxing on Vomit Patrol. That shit can spew forth without a moment's notice. But I'm prepared. Bowl at ready, waiting for the first gag, I pounce, catlike and trying not to breathe.
Lysol is the smell of my kind. We're the ones you see in Walmart with a buggy-load of disinfectant. Notice the glint in our eyes. We know we are surrounded by the enemy, but damn if we will give up without a fight. You better buy your can now, or I will buy out that shit, yo.
The entire school year is the season of my discontent. I am in Patrol mode from that
first day through the last. With all 3 kids in school now, my vigilance can NEVER flag. My enemy, vomittey germs, are in collusion with dumb-ass parents. The ones who know their kid is seriously sick and covered in the germs but send them to school. Hey, not your problem, right? When those germs attack and knock out an entire classroom of kids, it's you on whom the parents are wishing terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things. Just a heads up.
Vomit Patrol is not over when the sun goes down. Vomit cares not what hour of the day it strikes. As a matter of fact, the more random the better. All the kids and adults in the household have been puke-free for three days, you say? Coast is clear, you say?
HAHAHAHAHA! The Oreo cookies vomit on your child's pillow mocks you.
It's a grueling, desperate position to hold. There is much gnashing of teeth and even more gagging. The eye in the storm is the warm respite of a shower, made longer for trying to get the chunks of junk out of your hair.
Oh, stomach virus, you are cruel and disgusting. You should be named Joffrey. YOU. SUCK. MASSIVE. BALLS.
ETA: Seriously? I was just about to publish this when my phone rings. My youngest got sick at pre-K.
Why, ye gods? Why??!?