I spilled a Burp in My Bed

I have no idea what that means. I've just finished explaining to my currently-pregnant best friend Banana about the amazing love of children, the joys (really - I'm not being sarcastic) of parenting and the wonder of it all, when from upstairs, Pee Pot (who has been asleep) begins to whine and calls out "Mommy! I spilled a burp in my bed."

Does. Not. Compute.

"Honey, did you spill a cup of water?" No. "Did you have an accident?" No. What on earth is she going on about. Upstairs I go. Her shirt is missing, but her pj pants are still on. And dry. "Whats going on baby?" I ask. "There is a burp in my bed, mommy." Still totally confused, I stumble into her room (where Drama Queen is still sleeping and begin blindly running my hand over the bed, looking for a damp spot where her water cup has spilled, or she maybe she drooled in her sleep, or something. . . .My hand runs across something soft, squishy, wet. I pick it up and carry it into the light of the bathroom to inspect. Its a strawberry. A Strawberry? Did she have one tucked away in her shirt from supper time? I look up at Pee Pot just as she begins to cough. I instantly register EXACTLY what is going on (bout time there Sherlock!) and instinctively turn her away from me and toward the potty, just in time for my darling to Linda Blair projectile across the bathroom floor. Perhaps a stray drop hit the toilet, but the majority hit the floor in an impressive display of momentum.

Banana begins heading up the stairs to tell us goodnight. . .I stop her halfway and tell her to turn around and head home. She's not great with vomit (who is though really?) and I definitely don't need extra puke to clean up. Before the night is out, I will clean up strawberries 3 more times, but at least with those instances I know its coming.