Following on from the poo post last week, a bodily episode happened this week that far surpassed that one and again involved me catching something nasty in my hands....
Most Sundays we go to my parents and sometimes we're joined by my sister and Isla's cousin Little M who is 3 months younger. It generally involves them running back and forth, a bit of screeching, lots of tussles over toys, general noise and the adults taking it in turns to shepherd them around.
A favourite thing to do over at Nanny and Granddad's house is to play on the slide, most people would think this takes place out in the garden but no, not here. Basically my mum got a slide given to her by a friend at work and her intention was for it to go in the garden. My Dad however was horrified about this, 'not on my grass' etc etc. I mean, where else would it go? His response 'on your grass, at your house...' He can be a tad grumpy (he admits this - his Ebay moniker is GrumpyOldeFart!). So the slide has been in the conservatory ever since - a kind of stalemate position where it's not in the garden but can still be played with. However the floor is really cold in there in the winter, so on occasion it has been brought into the living room on the rug (much to Dad's chagrin). So, it's Sunday, we've finished our dinner and Isla starts banging on the conservatory door 'Schlide, schlide'. The slide is duly brought into the living room and Isla and Little M have fun running round and going up and down it. They do this for ages and they're really loving it.
Then things take a turn for the worse. Little M has gone off with my sister and my mum, and I don't know where OH is but I'm left with Isla going up the steps of 'schlide' and my Dad is watching TV and the next thing...BAAARF....all down the slide. Puke travels down the slide like lava from a volcano and I'm left to stick my hand in it's path to stop it from reaching the bottom of the slide and onto the rug! I'm shouting HELP and at this point I've never seen my Dad move so fast to save the rug....launches himself like a rocket out of the chair and shouts 'LIFT UP THE END OF THE SLIDE!!!' to which I shout back 'I CAN'T! ISLA IS ON THE STEPS FOR GOODNESS SAKE!'
At this point I think Dad catches himself and realises that the poor girl is at the top of the slide and has just watched her guts fly down it, 'Er, oh yes, ummm'. Puke is still pooling at the bottom of the slide and hasn't hit the rug yet, but then while I'm trying to get Isla off the steps so that the slide can be tipped up, she goes again and there we have it, the end of sliding on the rug in the living room, puke hits the rug, the death knell has finally rung. Perhaps now Dad will let the slide sit in its rightful place on the grass in the garden.....I suspect it will more likely be that the slide will turn up at our house in the back of his car sometime soon, so that no sliding can take place at all. Oh well it was great while it lasted!
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