December was a busy month for us.  Just like everyone else we tried to cram as much Christmas as we could into every nook and cranny we could find.  My mother in law urged me to take it easy with the kids as she didn’t want anyone sick for Christmas.  We were fine.  One event a day wasn’t going to kill anyone.

I was wrong.

We started doing open skate on Sundays to get the kids more confident in their skating abilities.  The kids love it as they have designated helpers on the ice to support the kids.  One awesome helper would even take Will on zoomie trips around the ring if he saw him skating well enough on his own.

The kids were skating great at the open skates.  Skating with Santa will be great. Two birds one stone,  Christmas and Skating.  BOOM.


We get there and Will is just off.  He’s not complaining, he isn’t anything really.  I just think he’s tired from spending the night at Nana’s.  We get on the ice and he isn’t really moving like he had in weeks past.  Even his helper friend can’t motivate him to get into it.  Even seeing Santa and Mrs Claus on the ice isn’t doing it for him.  So we make a deal that if he can skate the cones he can get off the ice with his quarter for whatever machine he wants.

After ice skating we always get ice cream.  Jane had a friend coming over too so we decided everyone needed a late lunch.  McDonald’s to the rescue! Happy Meals and ice cream sundaes.  We place our order and pull up to the window.  I turn around to hand the kids their sprites when William just explodes with vomit.  All down the front of him.  It keeps coming.  I wonder what this kid ate for breakfast at Nana’s.

He’s 4 acting like he’s 21 puking in the car while in the drive thru of McDonald’s.  I’m shocked,  this is all a great deal to process.

He looks at me to help him.  Dude, I can not help you right now.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to deal with that insane amount of puke in one concentrated area.  This isn’t like Jane’s liquid Gatorade fountain.  This puke has substance.  The best thing to do is just get home and get you inside and deal with it there.

We pull in the drive way, where Jane’s friend is waiting with her mom.  I throw my keys at her to get into the house, she carries the McDonald’s.  I tend to patient x.  Luckily, all the puke is contained to him and the seat.  It’s cold.  He’s soaked.  He wants me to carry him inside, but I can not touch him like that.  I love him, but all love has their limits. I carefully release him from his car seat, he waddles inside soaked, and I carefully release the car seat from the car.  This was some work because I wasn’t trying to make direct contact with the puke and I also wasn’t trying to spill it into the car.

Upon freeing the car seat I set it down in front of the garage and walked away.  I had done enough.  Cleaning the car seat was a job for Dad.

I walk inside to find Will striping in the living room in front of Jane and friend.  I hustle him upstairs, get him changed, and throw the vomit clothes into the washing machine on the burn everything to hell setting.

William goes downstairs and happily eats his McDonald’s as thought the whole event had never occurred.  I wash my hands and try to recover mentally and emotionally from my second car puke incident.

I am now a parenting expert on kids puking in cars.  I don’t want this badge.