Why I Will Never Eat Macaroni Again

Yesterday, SicklySuzie got sick.  All over the place.  I am generally useless in these situations, since I'm a sympathetic puker.  All I could do is sit across the room, try not to look at her and take shallow breaths until Mr. A got it all cleaned up.

This happens often enough that we have a special bucket that we pull out, just in case she's ready for another round and can't make it to the toilet.  After the episode, we gave it to her and reinforced that she should either use it or try to make it to the bathroom if she feels sick again.

A couple of minutes go by and Mr. A is just about done.  I venture a glance at Suzie and she's sitting on the couch, cross-legged and shirtless with a bucket between her legs.

She looks up and notices that I'm staring at her.

SicklySuzie: Mama, why I have this bucket?

That's my girl.

Awesomeness: Honey, you just had a megaton of puke come out of you.  You need the bucket in case there's some left.
SicklySuzie: Macaroni puke?  I have lots and lots of macaroni puke.
Awesomeness: No, sweetie, I said 'megaton' not 'macaroni.'
SicklySuzie: I have lots and lots and lots of macaroni puke.

This is the point where I've completely lost interest in ever eating macaroni again.

Then she had to keep going.

SicklySuzie: This bucket is for my throw ups.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey, that's why you have a bucket.
SicklySuzie: But we don't play with our throw ups.
Awesomeness:  Uh....
SicklySuzie: Playing with throw ups is BLEEEEEEEHHHHH!

Ugh.