Barf

As a father of four, you may be surprised to learn that I am somewhat petrified of barf. Greatly fear doing it myself, abhor the thought of it, don't really even like jokes about it. 

So today, much to my chagrin, I was full-scale barfed on by my middle daughter (27 months old). The poor thing was running a fever and we had just gotten out of the car. As I was carrying her into the house, she unloaded all over my shirt and pants. And to be fair, all over herself. 

I started to wonder if I am perhaps lucky for going so long as a father without this happening before. Sure, when infants, the kids have crapped, spit-up, drooled and peed on me. For some reason, that didn't really bother me. The horror of looking down and seeing recognizable food items on my shirt was not exactly the best part of my day. 

After getting the sickly little girl inside, I cleaned her up, read her some stories and rocked her to sleep. I have checked on her about 4 times since she went to sleep and all seems well. Here is to her speedy recovery.