Today was a good day, except for the scene at the pizza buffet. I’ll get to that later.
It began with sloppy-wet snow, which came down heavy as we drove to the schools this morning. It was hard to see far in front of the car and I had to put it in to four-wheel-drive to get it up our driveway once we returned home.
I took the three little ones to the grocery store later in the morning. Both boys wanted to ride the penny horsey on the way out. Joel climbed on and announced, “I’m going to California! So long, suckers!” I told him he was wise to go to a sunny place, and I wish I could go too. Oh, and don’t say that! How many times do I have to tell you not to say that? A bazillion?
By the time afternoon kindergarten rolled around, the snow had stopped and nearly all of it melted. Something about Springtime in the Rockies, but I won’t say it as I am not a local TV meteorologist with a Super Doppler Radar in my purse and a $200 umbrella sheltering my Katie Holmes hair. As I backed out of the driveway, I noticed green tulip leaves jutting out of the snow.
The afternoon was busy . Before long, it was time to retrieve the four big kids from their schools. The boys emerged from the building wearing stickers reminding us of the monthly fund-raising night at a national pizza buffet chain. Can we go?
They begged. They chanted the name of the place, which we will call PiPi’s. They noted we haven’t been to one of these fundraisers at all this year. I thought about it, but wanted to wait until hubby got home to see what he thought.
He was running late because of heavy traffic, so when he walked in the door I think he just wanted to eat something, anything, even pizzas churned out by the dozens in a crowded and garishly lit strip mall joint. We decided to go. The kids were thrilled.
It was very busy, but we found a table to squeeze around. The pizza wasn’t too bad. We were having fun until Joel made a squeaking noise and coughed.
“I choked!” he cried.
I asked what happened, and he told me he choked on ice from his drink. I patted his back and had him talk to me to make sure his airway wasn’t blocked. He seemed to be okay, until he got The Look on his face.
His pizza, his fruit punch, his lunch, the snacks he enjoyed this afternoon—it launched like a solar flare. Hubby grabbed a clear green-tinted plastic cup and Joel filled it. We grabbed another. There was vomit on his pants, the chair, the floor, the table. The volume was astonishing. Hubby hustled him out, leaving me with the four big kids (at their school fundraiser) and Beatrix.
I went through all the napkins on the tabletop box, sopping it up. I held it together pretty well, I thought, until I got to a bad “vein” let’s just say. This particular “thing” I touched with my bare hand made me dry heave so violently that I ripped a Coke-fueled burp that shook the rafters. I swear, the lights dimmed for a split-second.
I told the remaining kids to get their coats on. I got Beatrix into her coat and we carried the larger Cup O’ Vomit to the ladies room where I flushed the contents and rinsed. I left it on the sink, not knowing what else to do.
The eyes of every PiPi’s employee was on us as we made our way to the exit, yet nobody asked how the choking little boy was doing or if we needed any assistance. I didn’t mention it to the staff because it was obvious what happened and I cleaned it up.
We were almost to the door when Tommy noticed his pants: “There’s THROW-UP on my pants!” I think he did this just in case there was someone in the far back corner who hadn’t heard the news that The Lifenut Kids’ Little Brother Puked At PiPi’s! And did you hear their mom BURP!?
School should be interesting tomorrow.
Good night, dear diary.
I hope tomorrow is a nice day.
