Always prepared ... almost

We prepared because we were going up winding mountain roads and thought that there was a fair chance that this would prove the initiator.

Well we survived that trip and days later, found ourselves using the bucket as a storage device given the lack of a console in the walk-through designed Tarago that we’ve hired.

Yes complacency had settled its comfy mantle about our relaxed shoulders.

Last night on our way home from visiting a friend’s place, with Thomas having drifted off to sleep on the living room floor, we were moving quite happily, ignoring Emily’s complaints of “Daddy you’re driving too fast and making me car sick.”

Right up to the point where we heard an ill-fated burble from the back seat. The sort of burble that ends with the propulsion of stomach contents into the wide blue yonda. Of course, when there’s six of you confined to the somewhat tight spaces of a motor vehicle, wide blue yonda tends to be hot confined space close to other children.

The real surprise and the reason for the total lack of warning was that the burble had come from Thomas. Yep, the one sleeping child in the car had managed to vomit. He was an absolute trooper, standing uncomplaining on the side of the road in his jocks whilst we attempted to deal with the inside of the car and his clothes.

This reaction was of course utterly polar to that of his three siblings who were suddenly 50 metres down the road protesting at full volume about how bad the smell was and that if they had to get in the car they too would vomit. Of course, I dealt with this with all the usual tact and diplomacy of someone who is inches away from the offending substance, cleaning it up with the toilet paper that I can only be eternally grateful for having ended up in the car.

Hell, we were only 5 minutes away from where we were staying anyway.

Regardless, it was all dealt with and perhaps even close to forgotten by the time this morning rolled around. Well at least up until the point that I was awoken by Caroline propelling herself out of bed at a speed usually reserved for getting on the end of a goal scoring opportunity on the hockey field. Certainly a speed never ever associated with her movement from bed.

That rapid movement was closely followed by the sound of vomit splattering on the tiled floor. Emily is sharing our room at the moment and she’d decided that Thomas couldn’t be the one to have all the fun!

But we’re all over that now. We’ve been to dream world, we’ve eaten food, and the two little tykes are now in bed (possibly even asleep, but let’s not stretch the fabric of reality too far!).

Just another day on holidays with the Tembys.