Enough with the puke already!

It would seem I need to create a whole category here for vomit related posts.
That’s right. It happened again tonight.
We were at Panda Express, the favorite of both my children. I was waiting at the table with Enzo when, out of nowhere, he started the tell tale gagging cough.
This time I caught it in my bare hands. Lucky it wasn’t more than a handful.
There I stood with my prize an no one around to help but my Zizza. “Run and tell Pop (who was in line) that Baby Brother threw up” I instructed.
Meanwhile, I shook my hands off into the near by garbage can. I had wipes but they were deep in my bag and no way was I reaching my wretched on hands in there to find them. At any other restaurant there would be a stack of napkins somewhere near by, not Panda. They are stingy with the napkins there. They give you one per person with your order and that’s it. If you want more you have to go back to the counter and ask. We always ask for a few extras up front but since we hadn’t made it that far yet, I was napkin less.
Zizza came back from relaying my message, the Mr’s response was to look at me and shrug. Helpful. (In his defense I don’t think he knew my fingers were dripping with stomach acid)
Just then, a Panda employee came out to wipe down tables, ah salvation!
“Excuse me” I said. “can I get a, a…something?” (as the boy begins to wretch again)
She was back in a flash with a whole roll of paper towels off which she had kindly ripped a fistful for my immediate use.
She left me the roll in case I needed it and I sat there holding my hands in the air away from my body and as far from my nose as possible until the Mr could relieve me of my child supervision duties so I could wash them five times over in the bathroom.
All the while Zizza begged “Can I have apple juice? I would like apple juice for a drink, are we getting apple juice” and I said to her “Do I look like I can buy you apple juice? If you want juice you need to talk to Pop, right now my only job is to sit here not touching anything” and she would say “But can I have some apple juice?” We had this exchange at least five times.
In case you wondered, yes, I was able to eat my food when I got it. I have what you might call an iron stomach(when I’m not pregnant).
Enzo, taking after his sister, seemed to feel just fine after his gastronomic demonstration and proceeded to eat three plates full (You know the little ones for egg rolls and such) of steamed rice.
He never gave up trying to snitch orange chicken off my plate either. I had to pay close attention the whole time. If I let my guard down, even for a second, I’d turn back to find a plump little hand sneaking a fork onto my plate.
Seriously folks, what is the deal with this? People who puke are supposed to be sick. They are not supposed to want orange chicken five minutes after the fact, not unless they’re preggers any way.
I pray that we wont have any of these surprise vomit attacks during our coming drive. I think we’d better take a bucket along just in case though.

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