Duke Pukem

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This is a story of woe and sorrow, and of children. So you know what that means, right? Puke party!

It started with Wolf, who had been complaining about pain in his tummy for a couple of days. He spent hours on the loo, but relieve didn't come so his body decided to try the other exit. I was sitting in the sofa at the very moment, with Wolf standing on my left side and Tyl sitting on the ground on my right. And then it came, in big gulps at first, then streaming out like raw sewage out of a hose pipe. All over my trousers and the floor.

I yelled for my wife, while I yanked Tyl out of the way. Meanwhile, vomit was coming out of Wolf's nose and all. Mrs.B came running in with a bucket and the kitchen roll, while I still endured the tidal wave and tried to hold Tyl back, who was very interested in this curious phenomenon.

The upside was that Wolf felt a whole lot better now that his stomach was free. I dunked him in the bath and cleaned myself up, while Mrs.B went at it in the living room with a shovel, a couple of buckets and a small bulldozer.

The next afternoon, I was in the last hours of an all day meeting when I felt a pain developing in my stomach. An hour or so later on the train, I wasn't feeling well at all. The bus ride home was an absolute nightmare, because I felt like throwing up and a wobbly city bus is positively the worst mode of transport in such a situation.

I drugged myself with everything I could find in the medicine cabinet that evening, and I managed to keep the contents of my stomach where they more or less belonged. Put I couldn't bear the idea of having dinner and I went straight to bed. That was Wednesday, and I'm still rather nauseous and a bit wobbly in the legs.

Of course, the misery didn't end there. Yesterday afternoon I had Tyl on my lap, who was thirsty like a mummified camel and sucked vigorously on his water bottle. Then, suddenly, his 4 o'clock fruit salad squirted out, on my trousers again. With the amount of water he'd been drinking, it soaked me right to my under garments. I sent Wolf for a towel, while Tyl kept sploshing me with molten banana in regular intervals. Unfortunately, the towel was hanging out of reach, so Wolf had to grab a chair. Tyl was still going at it. Wolf reached the towel. Tyl still played irrigation hose. Wolf walked back over with the towel. It was of no use any more at this stage.

I walked upstairs like a troll with a haemorrhoid, my nether regions soaking in wet baby goo. Tyl, surprisingly, was not that badly hit, protected as he was by his plastic bib. But I still had to change all of his clothing, after I'd quickly removed my trousers.

They never explain to you in advance that fatherhood involves changing a baby standing half naked with your gonads covered in vomit. Good thing the right door neighbours weren't home either, because their bathroom window is right across the window of the changing room, and I'm not precisely sure what they would have made of this scene. I suddenly realise I could have found myself in jail by now...

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