Usually I get home to meet Daughter #1 at the bus with anywhere from 0-25 minutes to spare, depending on traffic in Tacoma. Today it was closer to 25 minutes, so I stopped to pick up a snack. Daughter #2 is in the back seat--I have my snack and she starts crying, for no apparent reason.
Then I realize what is wrong. More barf. No projectile vomiting, but it's bad enough, covering her body and of course, the car seat. One small benefit, taking the seat out to clean it took the smell out of the car. Here I have my child screaming, "Daddy, I barfed again! I'm sad!" Figuring out what I'm going to do and realizing I have less than 10 minutes to fix the issue, I get home, leave the child in the car and pull out our worst beach towels so I can wrap the child and clean her up in time to either: a) give her a bath or b) wipe her down well enough to get her into the stroller and pick up Daughter #1. I didn't think I could pick up Daughter #1 given the circumstances because I thought I could end up with a Stand By Me style "barf o rama." While I went up stairs to triage clean, I discovered that the dog pooped all over the upstairs spare bedroom.
What a bonus gift.
I managed to get Daughter #2 cleaned up and the upstairs bedroom and we made it to the bus with zero time to spare to pick up Daughter #1. Adrenaline can work really well in a tight situation.
Post Script: After all that trauma, Daughter #2 asked me if she could have macaroni and cheese for supper...
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