Since the rest of the bloggified world is all aflutter over "Snakes on a Plane" being released today, I'm falling in line with a campy, scary post after my morning with Maya. For those of you that have already traveled down the following road, I expect you'll empathize. For the rest of youse, if you think a plane full of snakes on crack sounds like a mess, just you wait...
Instead of "Snakes on a Plane" ("SoaP") think "Barfing Child in a Moving Car" ("BaC-MoC"). As in an explosively carsick Maya. After a big breakfast of Grape Nuts, fried egg and raspberries. Ewwww. Yes, Maya really outdid herself today with almost no notice in a parenting Pop Quiz for me. We were just north of the U-District on our way to the Woodland Park Zoo on a gorgeous Friday morning. We'd just dropped Sarah off at work. We need to get a second car BAD, but I'm waiting for the new stretch Hummer to come in and you know how that goes. Anyhoo, Maya had been quiet for a bit so I turned to check her mood. Just in time for the show to begin. I think it's called a Code Red if the barfing begins while the vehicle is moving. In Maya's case, breakfast made it more of a Code Magenta. A BIG Code Magenta. Getting off the road became Job #1 for me. Luckily our car is fully stocked with Maya cleaning supplies. So soon we were clean (enough) and after a nice long hug, Maya didn't even object to being put back in the puke seat. By the time we were back home, she'd smiled and giggled as she snacked on a graham cracker before starting to turn a bit green again just as we got home. It faded quickly, and I even tossed her in the bath to fully redirect. Except for the slight lingering smell of puke about her, you'd never think anything askew. The same's been said of Mel Gibson for years.
Hope your own horrors are equally short-term and campy today. Rock on.
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