The sofa of gloom

The puker and the actor.
One of these children is sick.
The other is very gifted at acting sick to try and elicit the same level of compassionate attention.
One of them is about to vomit all over the sofa, the duvet cover, the comfort blanket, herself, her brother and her dad (her Dad's camera was miraculously spared).
The other will just moan a bit about his duvet cover and pyjamas smelling of half-digested Actimel and brioche and will relocate to a better spot (well, one that does not smell as strongly of gastric acid) to watch Sponge Bog.

It is not business as usual at the Rahenys today.
I usually spend my Sunday morning performing arduous crowd control tasks while Mrs Raheny gets her one lie-in of the week (I usually get Saturday mornings). My main objective would be to keep them from maiming each other while trying to save what little pieces of still intact furniture we may have.

This morning all I had to do was comfort Mimi (trying very hard to convince myself that my daughter's vomit does not stink, because she is after all a princess), while watching with fascination Luca falling for each of the overenthusiastic and downright brainwashing ads for boy toys that punctuate the Sponge Bob episodes on Nickelodemon.
Thank God for stomach bugs!