My son threw up - on cue - every fifteen minutes from around 1pm until 5pm. I quickly began to run out of things for him to throw up on and/or in. But as someone pointed out to me - he managed to find it in him to give it a bloody good go anyway. During this time my daughter had improved fantastically and at one point I was so preoccupied with a vomiting boy that I let her have a bash at Angry Birds on my computer. During one particularly vicious puking fit I noticed that my daughter had not only accidentally clicked on the Shop icon, but had also selected to spend $20 to buy random shit. She was on a screen asking for credit card details when I told her firmly not to arse about like that. At which point she became so startled that she started crying, couldn't breathe, started coughing and then puked. If I can harness that power I could do some real damage.After my daughter had calmed down she then started suggesting all sorts of ways that she knows (and that she was eager to point out that I couldn't know - what with her being much cleverer than a dunce like me) that would make her brother stop vomiting. Most of them were things like drinking water or trying to eat something. One of them was the patently silly, "if you just stop throwing up then it will be better." Well, yes. But best of all was the rather fantastic suggestion that he needs to, "put some oink mint" on his tummy. No - not ointment. My daughter believes the correct words are, "oink" and, "mint." The concept of a spearmint pig hadn't come up before, but I'm fairly certain that would be enough to make quite a few people sick.
After 5pm my son gave me a nice 25 minute breather. Completely against the dour morose attitude he'd expressed for the prior four hours he started running around and shouting. At one point I swear he was crouched under the computer table calling out, "Zvonimir Boban!" Ten minutes later he was back to being very dour and begging to be held as still as possible whilst he concentrated on trying not to taste that nasty salty I-m-about-to-puke salty flavor. Then he erupted like Mount Vesuvius coating himself and me in an astonishing quantity of purple vomit. In an effort to drag this Pompeii analogy out as much as I can I'll claim that we both looked like those creepy buried ash-covered people that were left where they were once the volcano exploded.And just to really ram it home I'll claim that I made some hilarious Frankie Howerd, "titter ye not" references as well. After that he my son managed an hour before an almost equally impressive vomiting at 6.30. Just before 7pm his mother got home from work - dashed upstairs to change out of her work clothes - dashed back down to hold him - only to immediately go back upstairs and take off all his and her clothes seeing as he'd puked up all over the both of them.
Strangely after that he completely ran out of steam (along with vomit) and passed out on his mother exhausted. At which point we propped him up in a pile of blankets whilst my wife and daughter played with her, g f f "catapult" - which is the inexplicable name that my daughter has insisted on calling her Kindle Fire. He rolled around shortly after 9pm thinking about another aggressive round of vomiting. Instead we all tried to go to bed with my plan that if he needed to get up then I'd get up around 2am and just deal with being tired the next day. Consequently my wife spent the next 90 minutes with a very unhappy child expecting to vomit any second, but somehow not doing so. He still managed to wake up very regularly to think about throwing up - but didn't actually do anything. Happily for me I woke up around 1.30am feeling very dodgy and assuming I'd be getting him up any moment. Amusingly he was fast asleep and my wife insisted that I leave him be until he would invariably wake up in half an hour or so.
So I've been up since just before 2am - and my son was up around 4am. He's been in a grand mood too. I mean that without a hint of sarcasm - he's been talking non stop and trying to squeeze in as much toy car pushing time that he feels he missed the prior afternoon. Then he ran out of steam again around 5.45 and begged me to hold him until he passed out. Which he did ten minutes later. 45 seconds after being sure he was out he vigorously awoke due to the surprising violence of the diarrhea he was now displaying. At which point I got his mother up. Upon learning that he was definitely not in danger of vomiting anymore - but was now dabbling in diarrhea (which sounds like a Jennifer Aniston Rom-Com, to be honest) she commented that, "that will be more fun than vomiting." Which confused me greatly seeing as I wasn't using units of fun to measure the things that he was either puking or shitting out of himself.
Right now he's playing trains as if nothing was ever wrong. His sister is behaving as if she is feeling unwell. she's slow, looks very tired and is still pointing out various body parts that she says are in pain. But then she follows it up by saying that her ankle/ear/bottom will feel betetr if I let her eat Popsicles. In other words it's a standard bluff and con.
The cheeky monkey.