Raising little Westies, and life as parent of a special needs son
Adventures in the Vomitorium
In a show of unity with Val, I thought I might bring up… let’s think again… revisit… no, still not right… mention our worst situation so far in the world of vomiting kids.
Because as we all know, horror – and misery – shared, is horror halved. Anyway, it’s fun grossing people out with gross stories!
When we only had two kids… aah, those were the days! We didn’t even really know what Autism was. We could pick up and go on a moments notice. Babies were cute, and we’d had one for the last 30-odd months in a row.
So one Easter, when Princess P was not quite 3, and Guitar Hero Addict had just turned one, we headed bush to see my brother & his family. To ride horses, and see the wilderness that is north-west of Dubbo.
At the time, Westie Elder the 2nd lived in a place that didn’t even have a supermarket. Nor a doctors surgery. An honest to goodness one-pub-town! None of that mattered, because – none of us were sick, right?
Someone forgot to tell the Easter Bunny that year that it’s the tooth fairy’s job to bring teeth, and even then, usually only the second ones. Because Princess P chose the moment we were over 200 km from a chemist to need Nurofen, thanks to some wicked canines of which she’d decided to grow two at once. While we were over 200 km from a chemist.
And anyway, being Easter, the chemist would have been closed for at least 4 days running!
While we were sleeping on the floor in my brothers lounge room. Which was fine, except for the fact that it was only at night that her temperature went berserk!
And that’s how I found myself having my first real experience with Princess P being a vomit fountain to rival this:
Since then we’ve found that our Princess can become anxious about almost anything in life, which is often enough to bring about vomiting, and all sorts of other upsetting activities best left for another time.