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Next Time I Am Knocking on Wood, or My Son's Head

Scene Thursday night 8:00pm

Her: There is a lot of sickness going around right now.

Me: Oh, I know.  It seems like people are dropping left and right.

Her: I shouldn't even say it...

Me: Don't jinx it....

Her: My kids never get sick.

Me: Mine either.  I honestly can't remember the last time they were really sick. 

Her: Same here.

Me: You know other than a cold.

Her: Yes.  I know some people whose kids are always sick.  Like every other week they are home from school.

Me: Ugh.  Me too.

I will spare you the rest of the conversation.  But suffice it to say that we went on and on about how it was obvious that our superior parenting skills, and mildly OCD tendencies, were responsible for the healthiness of our children.  We agreed that we were both awesome parents.  Our fabulous shoes might have also figured into it, I can't recall.

Let's just say we left that conversation with an air of shared smug superiority.


Scene: Saturday morning 6:00am

7 year old pitiful child: I don't feel so well.

Me: Oh no, what's the matter?

7 yr old pitiful child: I think I am going to throw up.

Me: What?

7 yr old pitiful child: I... blllllllllleeeeeeesdhfshfgshfsh....splat.

That is the indescribable sound of vomit flying out of the mouth of the pitiful child Linda Blair style and hitting the tile floor.

I watched in disbelief.  And horror.  There was my smug superiority lying on the floor. 
Karma smells a lot like bleach. 

Visit Chris Jordan's personal blog, Notes from the Trenches