Thursday 7 August 2008

crabbydad - Hurl-y to Bed, Hurl-y to Rise...

 

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Hurl-y to Bed, Hurl-y to Rise...

So, I go to pick up the spawnage at camp today, and when I get there, Miss O's counselor, who's like 12 1/2, comes up to me and says, in a very serious tone, "Uh, so after lunch today, when the kids were practicing their skit, well, Miss O sort of... got sick."

I didn't know what the fuck he meant, at first... "got sick"? Then I said, "Wait... she puked?" He nodded his head. Dude, just say she fucking puked.

And wait... why did she puke?!

I looked around, and Miss O was happily frolicking around with her friends, with nary a sign of her chunks having been ralph-ed. I thanked the lad, and then tracked the ragamuff down. Now, trying to get information out of Miss O is like trying to get the weird fungus that's been on my left big toe for the last five years to go away -- you can poke and prod and apply various salves and unguents, but Miss O ain't gonna fucking talk. Neither will the fungus.

What I could glean from her harrumphs, whines and non-answers was that:

1. Her stomach didn't hurt.

B. She was fine after the chucking was upped.

iii. It was less of a puke and more of an exuberant "mini-vom."

Now, the old crabbydad would worry his skinny little ass off, trying to figure out just what pernicious plague had befallen the girl. But for some reason, the new old crabbydad isn't really all that fucking concerned. I mean, I've seen her mini-vom before and lemme tell you, she's a fucking blo-fessional. Sometimes it happens when she's bending over the arm of the couch reading a book, sometimes it happens when she tries to force out a belch at the dinner table (like the true crabbykid that she is), and sometimes it happens because... well, just because.

I think, eensie-bit by weensie-bit, I'm learning to not ramp up into fucking panic mode every time someone gets a runny nose. Or a runny esophagus. Granted, I'm not throwing the Xanax away just yet -- I still have to stand over the spawnage every night until they move before I can allow myself to go to sleep, but hey... baby steps, right?

So what does this all mean? I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure it means that Miss O's fucking going to camp tomorrow.


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