And then she puked all over her dinner.
Like most kids my daughter will insist every now and again that she doesn't like eating something that she actually does. So as I've taken on the school stomach bug and made it my own over the last few days I thought it best not to make dinner for everyone. So my wife quickly chucked together a barbecue chicken pizza for her and the kids. My daughter inevitably complained that she didn't like it. She hadn't eaten any yet but whatever. After a bite or two she started gagging. I quickly told my wife that I think it is amazing that she can convince herself that she dislikes the taste so much that her body actually tries to reject it. My wife simply thought she was acting. Like the good chef fattening the goose for Christmas she insisted that my daughter cut it out and eat more. My daughter then puked it all up like a fountain all over her legs and dinner plate. I thought that was a nice touch - now she definitely won't have to take another bite.
What's neat about that though is it is an entirely isolated incident. There was and won't be any other vomiting from her. She was sick before hand - and judging by the strangely yellow poo she birthed yesterday (I'm serious - it was like a massive banana) she still has some way to go to get back to normal. My wife will go to any lengths to avoid throwing up so assumes everyone else is the same. Not me - if puking it all out will make me feel better than I'm ready to go. My daughter puts her vomiting in context. If she's actually sick then it wasn't fun. Last years two week long vomiting and shitting volcano is a prime example. But the odd, "oops!" doesn't phase her at all. A minute later she was bouncing around the living room. Ten minutes later her and her brother were trying to actually kill themselves by spinning around as much as possible until they hit something hard enough to stop.
I don't remember this thing called the Terrible Two's with my daughter. Probably because she has been constantly turned up to eleven since birth. My son isn't two yet, but he has decided that for periods of the day he will arbitrarily commit war crimes against anything that gets in his way. He will make the effort to travel and find you just to bite you and run off. He particularly likes to find large blunt heavy objects that he can hit his sister in the face with. She sees this as an opportunity to get him into trouble so allows him to twat her one right in the head. Coincidentally when he's in a fit of rage she will often decide to be in that mood where everything hurts or was mean. So her brother will jump off the couch she's sitting on to go find a tool to torture her with and she'll whimper that he made the couch vibrate too much. It's very frustrating.
Yesterday was very much one of those mornings. My wife tried to placate them both with dressing up in their Halloween costumes and going out to a restaurant. They seemed much happier when they got back, but my wife then took a nap. She took my son with her, which is a bit like putting ten antacid tablets in a bottle of Coke. I can tell that there is no way in a million years he will nap. She still insists after four years and two kids that this time it'll happen. Because he does need a nap. He either has to have one or hit a point where he snaps out of the mood he's in and gets a second wind. Five minutes later I went upstairs to get him just so he wouldn't howl and beat the walls any more. Another ten minutes later and he was still in the old sadist wind. I know this because he had managed to smuggle his sister's huge blue glass marble and had thrown it at her so hard that it skimmed off the top of her head like a stone on water and then banged into the window.
After that he insisted (by grunting and growling) that I let him watch Thomas the Tank Engine. Nope - no television thanks. I then fluked it by asking if the kids wanted to play a game of Buckaroo. Not with a small plastic burro - that would be absurd. No - instead they had to try and hang on to me while I wildly flailed around trying to throw them off. That seemed to shake the both of them out of their respective irritable moods and allow me to physically take it out on them but call it parenting.
Somehow in the middle of that my daughter made up her own game in which I was a scary Halloween monster. She gave me a pair of fake monster teeth to wear that I'd been putting into Halloween bags as novelties. My daughter then decided to call me the, "Fairywolf" and kept insisting I, "bite my mega-ball!" Which is the name of her very bouncy rubber ball that she gets in trouble for bouncing in the living room. After a while of that she also wanted to watch television. No ma'am - not happening. I then made a catastrophic error of language. When asked by her why she could not watch TV I said, "because you can't watch too much television," and explained that it was my job as a parent to ensure that didn't happen. Which she took to mean that it is impossible for a child to watch too much television and it was my job to ensure that this simple law was proven. She wouldn't allow me to explain either - I had officially declared that it is impossible for her to spend too much time watching television and that if I said otherwise I was a liar and was trying to make her cry. It reminded me of when I was a child and I was bouncing a tennis ball off the living room wall. One of my parents (can't remember which) came into the room and said, "throw that ball at the wall again and see what happens." I took this as a prompt to, "throw that ball at the wall again and see what happens," and not as a test to see whether I was deliberately taking the piss.
Other than that this weekend is kind of meh. I did manage to clear some of the yard up a bit and try out the flavored coffee I'd bought for my wife. It's a pumpkin spice one from Target. I don't like flavored coffee so I'm not sure what miracle I thought was going to happen. Inevitably it tasted like someone had accidentally dropped something horrible into my coffee. My wife then cleared up what the terrible taste was by stating she though it tasted like those fake banana candies. Yep, that would be it.
I wonder if this is linked to my daughter's magical banana poo?