The other night, or shall I say morning (2:30am) to be exact. I was awakened by a horrific smell. One that as a parent, you know is accompanied by some type of bodily function. Problem was, there were no kids in the bed. My first thought was Keith had pooped his pants. Then as I fully awakened I realized it wasn't him, it must be one of my furry children, oh joy.
I catapulted out of bed and see Lucy hovered in the shadows...oh the smell...I'm thinking it's a major explosion. I can't find it. So I turn on the bathroom light to try and shed some light on the situation, at which point Keith roles over and says, "did you fart." Okay, first my farts don't stink ; ) and when they do they smell like sweet roses. "No, Lucy's sick," at which point he jumps out of bed and runs full force into the wall of stench...."oh God" and he runs to the bathroom. When Keith returns, see if you can picture this, he has taken a white t-shirt and tied it around his face. He looks like a terrorist of some sorts, with boxer shorts on, real threatening.
I've located the source of the smell, Lucy has vomited in her bed. Praise the Lord it wasn't on the carpet. We decided to just chunk the bed, neither one of us want to tackle the job of cleaning it. I'm holding the trash bag and "Mohammad" is going to pick up the bed and very carefully put it into the trash bag....except he can't...he keeps gagging, saying, "OH GOD I CAN STILL SMELL IT" Like the homemade gas mask is supposed to stop the smell. Now I can't stop laughing, we are about to have another accident. We finally got things cleaned up, Lucy spent the night in the laundry room, poor goose. I still catch myself laughing out loud. I wish I could have gotten a pic, it was priceless. PRICELESS!