Overheard from the longest 2 hour ride home. Ev-er.:
Me: "Oh my heck we might get lucky- Kenna's asleep through the canyon. Maybe she won't barf?!"
(5 minutes later)
Me: "Oh sonuva. . . never mind. Scratch that. She's wide awake. Oh crap, she's starting to cry."
Jeff: "Dude she's gonna puke! Get a bucket or something!"
Jace: "How much longer?"
Jamison: "Can I have a string cheese?"
Me: "You're asking me for a string cheese right now? Seriously?"
(Me. Turned around in the car holding out a plastic bag for 30 minutes while my 2 year old screams bloody murder from being nauseous.)
Jamison: "Ooh. . . I don't feel so good. . . "
Me: "oh my gosh the whole da$% car is going to be sprayed with puke. . ."
(Jamison emits high pitched girly scream due to his nausea.)
Me: "Dude! Put your head between your knees and breathe slowly! I'm sorry you're sick BUT SCREAMING LIKE THAT IS RESERVED ONLY FOR KIDNAPPINGS AND FIRES."
Jeff: "Does the whole family have the weakest stomach or what?"
Johnny, not to be outdone by all the screaming chaos: "Mommy-- I pooped my pants."
Me, turning to Jeff: "Oh no he did not say he just shat his pants."
He didn't. He just wanted to get in on the action.
"Seriously Johnny? You crapped your pants.?."
Johnny: "Yep. I pooped my pants."
For the record, we made it home without any bodily fluid incidents. But, it's a wonder we go anywhere past our front door.
(many thanks to the Moss family for some freaking awesome trips.)