chunky cords

Four times he puked today, getting various amounts on all the items here, which includes the towels and flannels used to save the carpet and get the worst off. Not pictured is the car seat and buggy-liner, both of which also caught a bit. By the time of the last eruption just after we put him in the car in the houses opposite the Transport Museum he had to be fitted into his pyjamas, but managed to avoid getting anything on them during a quick pop to Kirsty & Doug's and was able to be put to bed in them after he fell asleep a few minutes away from home. The first two were quite mild and seemingly entirely due to stuffing too much down his throat without chewing it but the third (just as we were about to leave the Beanscene opposite the Kelvingrove) was for no apparent reason other than to underline how upset he was at being popped in the buggy and strapped in.

As the washing machine is still defiantly bollocksed (and isn't releasing the current load when unplugged) all vomit-covered clothes have to be hand-rinsed to get the worst off before temporary storage, pending either resumption of in-house washing abilities or being taken to a launderette or nearby sympathetic mother-colleague, though if I run out of bicycle-fiddlings on Wednesday when waiting for someone to arrive in the vague six-hour-wide repair slot window I'll do a load in the bath so that I don't run out of cycling baggies.