Gag Karma
Last night, I decided to put on my "good mom" hat and give Anna the proper Halloween experience of carving a pumpkin. She has been delighted by pumpkin sightings this fall and has tried, on occasion, to pick up the ones we have here at the house remarking, "Oh, beavy (heavy)!" while attempting to lug them around.
In spite of this interest, Anna--all in all--was unimpressed with the pumpkin-carving bit. She looked at me as if I were nuts when I first pulled the lid off the pumpkin, and she grimaced when I plopped a strand of slimy orange innards in her hand. She did find some joy in taking off and putting back on the pumpkin top, and she laughed when she dove into the pumpkin with a wooden spoon--freeing one lonely seed that went shooting across the floor. Then, however, being the good mother I can be, I encouraged my unsuspecting toddler to stick her face into the pumpkin and smell it. She grimaced. She coughed. She stood there for a split second, and then, she heartily gagged. And I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
I must admit, the possibility of a genuine gag response to pumpkin carving is one of my favorite things about the activity. I'm sure there must be something wrong with me, but for as long as I can remember, I have found it really, really funny when people gag--especially tiny people. So, however sick and twisted it may be on my part, I was deeply amused when Anna came a little too close to the pumpkin guts two or three more times last night and repeated her gag performance. Brian told me I was horrible. He's probably right.
So...tonight, I put Anna in the bathtub--perfectly warm with lots of bubbles and even more bath toys. We were playing and enjoying our time together when I saw her put on a red/strained face and then noticed--to my horror--a little brown blob float up to the surface of the water from under her bum. In a lightning-quick motion, I had the kid out of the water and onto the toilet where she could finish her business, but the damage was already done. In the midst of all the lovely bubbles and bright colored toys was rapidly disintegrating poop. Sick.
Now, Anna is clean--again--and sleeping soundly in her bed. I, on the other hand, am heading off to my fate of scrubbing a contaminated tub and bleaching what feels like ten thousand plastic bath toys. As I reflect on last night and the events of this evening, I feel forced to confess that it really isn't as funny when I'm the one on the verge of gagging.
In spite of this interest, Anna--all in all--was unimpressed with the pumpkin-carving bit. She looked at me as if I were nuts when I first pulled the lid off the pumpkin, and she grimaced when I plopped a strand of slimy orange innards in her hand. She did find some joy in taking off and putting back on the pumpkin top, and she laughed when she dove into the pumpkin with a wooden spoon--freeing one lonely seed that went shooting across the floor. Then, however, being the good mother I can be, I encouraged my unsuspecting toddler to stick her face into the pumpkin and smell it. She grimaced. She coughed. She stood there for a split second, and then, she heartily gagged. And I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
I must admit, the possibility of a genuine gag response to pumpkin carving is one of my favorite things about the activity. I'm sure there must be something wrong with me, but for as long as I can remember, I have found it really, really funny when people gag--especially tiny people. So, however sick and twisted it may be on my part, I was deeply amused when Anna came a little too close to the pumpkin guts two or three more times last night and repeated her gag performance. Brian told me I was horrible. He's probably right.
So...tonight, I put Anna in the bathtub--perfectly warm with lots of bubbles and even more bath toys. We were playing and enjoying our time together when I saw her put on a red/strained face and then noticed--to my horror--a little brown blob float up to the surface of the water from under her bum. In a lightning-quick motion, I had the kid out of the water and onto the toilet where she could finish her business, but the damage was already done. In the midst of all the lovely bubbles and bright colored toys was rapidly disintegrating poop. Sick.
Now, Anna is clean--again--and sleeping soundly in her bed. I, on the other hand, am heading off to my fate of scrubbing a contaminated tub and bleaching what feels like ten thousand plastic bath toys. As I reflect on last night and the events of this evening, I feel forced to confess that it really isn't as funny when I'm the one on the verge of gagging.
I seem to remember a tiny niece gagging at the smell of some of the zoo animals-was pretty funny 25+ years ago:) Oh Lace,you crack me up.
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