- Douglas Adams
Conventional wisdom dictates that the appropriate receptacle in which to store vomit is a toilet bowl, bucket, or perhaps even a bag. In the Hughes household however we fly in the face of convention and, when the urge to hurl becomes too much, our children choose to spew into the folds of the nearest available towel.
I’m not sure how or why this practice evolved. It was most likely when Amy was a baby and we grabbed the nearest thing to hand. Whatever the reason it appears to be firmly engraved in Amy’s psyche and whenever she feels nauseous she will invariably make a break for the towel rack rather than the toilet.
This isn’t really a problem. Towels are absorbent; easily washable; and, due to the chaotic nature of our housekeeping, easily located in the middle of the floor of nearly every room. The only problem I can foresee is Amy possibly causing social embarrassment if she suddenly feels sick while she’s on the beach, at the swimming pool, or …err… in a towel factory.
We’re getting through a fair few towels at the moment. For the last week or so Evan has been feeling under the weather and has had the tendency to throw up immediately after eating anything (particularly in the morning).
While this has been pretty wearing (and has forced me to change my vomit covered clothes more frequently than my customary monthly shirt rotation), we are not particularly concerned about his health. It’s just a virus he probably picked up at nursery. In fact, if Amy is anything to go by, Evan will never be completely free of disease again. He will have an ever present gooey eye, snotty nose or raspy throat that he has caught from some other lurgy inflicted child. He will remain this way until the day he decides to shun all human contact and choose a rewarding career in the hermit industry.
Until then, we’ll always have a towel handy.