Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Perfect Timing

Brooklyn was a little off kilter. She was kind of cranky; a little morose; not herself. She just wanted to lay on the couch with her blanket or be held.

Generally, I try to keep the kids out of my office during traditional work hours, but Brookie was so docile that I let her stay in a sitting hug position on my lap while I worked. Then a meeting reminder popped up alerting me to my weekly touch-base meeting with my boss in 15 minutes. Brooklyn didn't want to leave and seemed to be nearly asleep. Since she was being so quiet and well behaved, I decided to let her stay. I explained that she needed to be extra quiet while I was on the phone with my boss, and that if she couldn't do that I would have to lock her out of my office.

She promised to be good.

And she was so good. She was so good I barely remembered she was even there. I had a good meeting. When it was over I thought Brooklyn must have fallen asleep, so I gently rubbed her back and softly asked if she was awake. She was. 

She pulled her head away from my shoulder, "Daddy, my tummy hurts."

"Does it feel like you need to go to the bathroom? Or do you feel like you're going to throw..."

Too late.

She got me. No point in trying to keep it from getting on me now. I was a human shield. I couldn't exactly stand up at this point to take her into the bathroom without dramatically increasing the risk of spilling the spew on the carpet, so I decided to board up and wait it out.

I repositioned Brookie slightly on my lap to form sort of a bowl/cup shape with our bodies to try to contain everything between us and not on my computer or the carpet. The idea worked surprisingly well. She erupted several more times, claiming to feel all better after each.

Finally she was empty. But I was then in an even worse position. I called out to Madison to bring me some towels. She, of course, first wanted to know why I needed them, then set out to locate the towel in the house that was furthest away from her.

I mopped up the mess in our laps and tossed our yucky clothes into the wash, then we both took quick showers to clean up.

I guess I just feel lucky that Brooklyn didn't explode five minutes sooner while I was still in my meeting. That would have been awkward. More so than being barfed on repeatedly.


1 comment:

Leslee said...

Wow, what a good daddy! I hope she is all better now, poor baby.