Sunday, February 19, 2012

While we were at the symphony...

Rachel and Miriam love when we go out—more specifically they love when I go out—because it usually means they get to watch a movie.

Tonight was no different.

During dinner they planned with Grandma and Grandpa to watch Tangled and have a popcorn party after they put on their pyjamas. They were already halfway into their pyjamas by the time we were leaving.

How unfair is that?

I usually have to chase the kids around the house naked (them naked, not me) and pin them down to get them in pyjamas. Okay, so I only have to chase Rachel around occasionally anymore but I think chasing Miriam (clad only in underwear (and sometimes not even that)) is a nightly occurrence.

Anyway, I said, "I'm leaving. Goodbye."

Rachel ran over and gave me a hug and a kiss and promised she'd be good, all without prompting.

Miriam waved and said, "Goodbye!" without offering a hug or kiss at all—she was ready to get her party on. But I made her give me a kiss goodbye, anyway.

I think they had a good time. Miriam's always a little bit in awe when we let her watch a full movie because usually if I let Rachel choose a show to watch it's while Miriam's napping and she knows this so she always looks pleased as punch that she's not being put to bed while everyone else is watching TV (because you know that's all anyone ever does while she's sleeping...or not).

After their movie Grandma and Grandpa were doing the finishing touches on bedtime—potty, teeth brushing, stories, that kind of thing. Miriam decided that she didn't want to wear her footie-jammies anymore so Grandma was helping her into a different pair and while they were busy doing that Grandpa decided that Rachel could use a tickle fight.

So he attacked her, tickling away, while she was climbing into bed.

He tickled her and tickled her and tickled her...and anyone who knows anything about this child's esophagus could tell you right now that this was bad, bad idea.

If she cries too much...she throws up.

If she coughs too much...she throws up.

If she laughs too much...she throws up.

All too soon Grandpa said, "Oh, no! She's throwing up!"

And Grandma looked at him like, "Well, DUH!"

And I'm just so glad I missed it all.

Grandma made Grandpa clean up the chunkies—mmmm...spaghetti for dinner followed up by a bowl of popcorn—and they changed her sheets. Fortunately she missed spraying her favourite blanket with vomit or they'd've really had a crisis on their hands!

Tickling Rachel is fine. But the minute she starts hiccuping you'd better stop. And fast.

And maybe hand her a throw-up bucket, just in case.

There's usually one by her bed.

You've been warned.

Sometimes I think Miriam might wonder why she doesn't get to sleep with a special bucket and Rachel does (because we seriously try to make sure she always has a bucket within reach when we put her to bed). It's because Miriam's normal (in that regard) and only threw up once last year (in her bed...and she still talks about it). Rachel threw up so many times last year that I don't think it's humanly possible to count them all. I've already lost count of how many times she's thrown up this year.

It's a little ridiculous. 

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