Friday, June 19, 2009

Happy Anniversary, Babe!

Hubby doesn't get me. I often catch him staring at me with an uncomprehending gaze, mouth slightly agape, head shaking unconsciously. I simply smile back sweetly with a "sorry, you're stuck with me, mister" look. Like tonight, for instance. Tonight is a perfect example.

I should have suspected an eventful ride home when LM started gagging in the far back seat of our minivan...but being a "glass half full" type of person, I assumed it was nothing significant. I turned around and shouted, "you okay, bud?". His reply helped confirm that the situation was not serious. Odd, yes-- but not serious. "Yeah," he said, "I'm having a little trouble chewing grass. I need to work on my grass-chewing, right Mom?" Ummm...how exactly do I answer that question? It seemed I was headed for uncharted territory. (Hubby offered a very unhelpful, "give him a drink or something!" as if I could conjure a juice box from thin air as we drove along. I think he thinks I'm magic.)

I was aware of the fact that just moments before we got in the car, LM had been partaking of the front lawn at my parents' house (when I say that he was pretending to be a Triceratops does that aid in your understanding?). But apparently little boys do not have the necessary tools to ingest grass properly-- at least my particular child lacks the skill. So there he was in the very back of the car, out of my reach, and gagging with increasing urgency. At this point hubby was getting a little frantic ("Do something! Give him some gum!") and that's when the first giggles struck.

Then LM puked all over the back seat.

With this, my giggles turned into raucous laughter. Hubby snorted at me disgustedly-- as if somehow I could have prevented the cookie tossing if only I had administered the gum. LM groaned in an "oh brother, not again!" way (he is no stranger to vomit). And then Ruby Jane began to gag. Upon hearing all this, my raucous laughter turned into uncontrolled hilarity and tears. And as the smell began to waft up to the front of the van, forcing us to roll down the windows for fresh air, I honestly tried to reign myself in. But it was useless. Hubby thought he'd try and help me get a grip by throwing out the sobering demand, "you get to clean this up!". But, for whatever reason, this too was funny, as empty threats often are....

Finally, finally, I managed a few deep cleansing breaths. I got a hold of myself, threw some napkins in the general vicinity of the back seat, and told everyone to hold on until we got home. And upon returning home, I surprised myself by helping LM get out of his spewed-on clothing and into the bathtub. I even removed his booster seat cover and tossed it into the washing machine. (Hubby, bless his heart, cleaned up the overflow in the car.)

But, the fact remains that hubby doesn't even remotely understand what I thought was so funny about the whole situation. I, on the other hand, cannot comprehend how in the heck he was able to keep such a stoic face the entire time. I mean, our son choked on grass for gosh sake! Grass! Normal people don't even eat grass. At least, not the kind you have to mow....

Anyway, like I said, hubby is stuck with me. And there's something absolutely hilarious about that. :)

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