Hurled

Last night, Jesse blew chunks. And right in our bed too.

According to Einstein's lesser known Theory of Abdominal Regurgitation™, the Ickiness index™ of human vomit increases exponentially with the age of the said human. In his infancy, a typical human child, during the occasion of any random gastrointestinal expulsion, will expel a projectile that is low on the Ickiness Index™. The quality of the said vomit will be of a transluscent white liquid, fluid consistency that emits a pleasant aroma - often associated with babies and breakfast cereal.

As the human child progresses in age, his projectiles will be higher up the Ickiness Index™ demonstrating a thicker consistency often coupled with solid masses. The colour will also be darker usually with a spectrum of hues, and the odour unbearable.

The poor boy must have drank a little too much milk. He'd gone to sleep for almost an hour when he started coughing and hacking. And the next thing we knew, the boy's supper was making a comeback. He sat up on bed looking all groggy and disoriented after the first wave, and I quickly recognised that as the calm before the storm.

I lifted my t-shirt up to his face and he let loose all over it. We quickly gave him a wipe down and a change of jammies and he went back to bed as though nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Daddy spent the next hour (almost, I kid you not) spraying the gook off the sheets and the shirt. It was a light brown gelatinous liquid with half-digested Nyonya Kueh, corn kernels and a bloody blueberry. And it refused to come off.

Gross. And yeah, it's gonna get worse. *sigh*