Upchuck the Mustard Boy

Isn't he adorable? That's my boy, CuddleBug. My sweet, twelve-year old ray of sunshine.

CuddleBug approaches me last week and announces;

"Mom, I puked!"

I look at the boy, sheer whiteness that he is, and hop into Mom-mode. Fever? Nope. Sore throat? Nope. Stomach cramps? Check. Okay...what did we eat for dinner. Panera Bread. Anyone else sick? Nope. What did he eat? Bread? Nope. I give him some Pepto and LoveBug and I start to clean up the mess. Seconds later he tears through the house to the bathroom and throws up again.

More detective work - this time employing an under-handed tactic known as the "rat squad." Sis, what did your brother eat? Nothing? No, not possible. Brownies? What brownies? The brownies you made three weeks ago that I told you to throw away and you left on the counter? Hmmm. Did you put eggs in those brownies by chance? You did? Uh-huh.

Back to CuddleBug's side. Baby, you've got food poisoning. The good news is, you'll feel better soon. The bad news is, you'll be puking your guts out and wishing you'd just die for the next 48 hours. Here's your bucket, and here's your cold wash cloth.

Five rounds of vomiting commence, followed by five rounds of missing the bucket and hitting the carpet.

Aw baby, you got some on your sheets here. Let me pull those off and wash them for you. What do you mean, "No, I got it"? You're sick honey, just let me pull the sheets off...let go, baby.

The sheets, now pulled free from the bed, reveal a bowl full of vomit tucked away under his bed.

OMG Honey? Did you throw all this up? You didn't? Well, baby, what is this? You don't know? What do you mean you don't know...it looks like the vomit you've been spewing all...hey, wait a minute.

Further examination of under-the-bed-zone reveal a bag full of the following contents, in no particular order: Spicy deli mustard, regular mustard, olive oil, vegetable oil, balsamic vinegar, brownie chunks, strawberry icing, and Italian Seasoning.

Um, kiddo, what is this doing under your bed? What do you mean you don't know? How did they get there? You don't know again? Why are they all nearly empty? You don't know that either, huh?

Four rounds of vomiting commence.

You know, kiddo... sometimes certain ingredients, when mixed together can cause acute indigestional projectus. Do you know what that means? You don't, huh? It's bad, honey. Very bad. You sure you don't know why this is under your bed? Will you die from "a cute jestus"? I don't know. I've never known anyone that's survived it before. Oh what? You think you might have mixed these ingredients together in that bowl? Really? Oh what? You might have tasted it a little? No wait, a lot? Hmmm...think hard now, baby.


Meet my bright, intelligent CuddleBug, henceforth known as Upchuck the Mustard Boy.