I thought I was safe. I enjoyed a few pieces of cheese here and there and saw no reaction in Charlotte. So I had some baked goods. And a little more cheese. And a dollop of fresh whipped cream. I was ready to go out and get a slice of pizza. My life was going back to the cheesy heaven it once was.
And then it was over faster than you can say vomit in your mouth.
I was laying in bed with the little miss yesterday afternoon and playing like we usually do when I get home from work. I pulled her onto my belly and started to kiss her neck to make her laugh and then she coughed twice, so I pulled my head back to look at her and we were face to face. Then she burped. I knew what was coming but there was literally no time to do anything except close my mouth really tight.
My daughter threw up on me. And not like spit up like she used to do when she was younger. This was full on heaving vomit. It landed right on my face, into my hair, onto my lips, down my chin, into my shirt, all the way down my chest into my pants. I’m not even exaggerating and I have a photo to prove it and it is highly disturbing and disgusting but I’ll totally send it to you to prove it. I’ve sent it to a few people and was debating posting it here, but I don’t think it’s nice to scar those that have yet to have children to see what their future holds. She was totally fine after her stomach contents ejected onto my face. It’s like she was saying to me, “I’m glad you had your fun with dairy, I hope you enjoy it the second time around, in the form of my VOMIT.” I guess I should just be thankful I closed my mouth in time.
Goodbye again, mozzarella. I miss you so.