File it under "Levi - oh what a day..."

First off, we checked out answering machine when we got home this evening.  There was a message from a man named Wallie... and well we never heard the rest of the message - that is until removed Levi from the room to listen to it again. The problem was that when he heard that it was 'WALL*E' on the phone he went ballistic - through the roof happy and ecstatic that WALL*E would be calling us. Crazy kid.

I wish I could say that the Levi stories ended there. That at least would have been a fun ending. As it turns out, around suppertime he started to not feel well.  He didn't eat his food. Complained of his stomach hurting. Was shaking with chills in the bath tub. Etc. But then about a half hour before bedtime he fell asleep on the couch. Finally, I decided to take him to bed. I picked him up. He put his arms around my neck. We headed down the hall. And then it happened. He barfed all over me as I held him there with his head/mouth nuzzled right up against my neck. Then he barfed again. And finally a third and possibly a fourth time (we'll never know for sure if it was 3 or 4 - for at that point I was suddenly feeling the urge to barf as well and I lost count).

Now, I know what you're thinking: Why would you allow him to barf on you more than once? Or possibly you are thinking what Megan was thinking, but sadly not verbalizing, as I walked down the hallway with the kid: If I were him I'd be holding him facing away from me... Too late...

Let's take those two thoughts in reverse order. In the second place you are all right and I'm the idiot who should have pointed the loaded kid away from me. That's basic gun safety after all with direct application to locked and loaded-possbily gonna barf kidos.

But to the first question: Why would you allow him to barf on you more than once?... I would like to make a more substantial defense. And here it is: 

1. Time slowed down to like half speed while thinking processes slowed down to quarter speed at best. We'll call it shell shock.
   
2. My olfactory senses were telling me to run, but wave #1 of retching had already washed over me and hit the floor - there was simply so safe place to run to. The best dry ground around was under my feet! With nowhere to go, no clear strategy for attack or retreat, I was vulnerable to the enemy.
   
3. Here is the most substantial part of my defense. If you had been there, despite prior knowledge of retching patterns in either adults or children, you simply wouldn't have believed after the first round that the little fella would have had anything left to give. And like me you would have been terribly wrong.
   

Well enough of that. All is now cleaned up, tucked into bed, and/or thrown away (to be clear, the floor is cleaned as am I, Levi is cleaned up and tucked into bed, and one of my favorite shirts has been thrown away).  In the meantime, I feel like I've just written a novella. Sorry about that. If you made it to the very end of this little saga, thanks for sticking with it. Hope you're feeling well.