It was like all hell had broken loose. Mayhem had descended upon the car and I seemed to be leading it.
Only moments before the car had been a sanctuary of calm. Twin girl was calmly colouring in the back, BB was rowing a boat to far off lands with a green squidgy teddy and twin boy was hunting for words beginning with ‘s’ in a mesh of letters in his activity book.
We were halfway from home en route to a day on safari, we were excited, we were smiling.
Then in a moment the smile faded.
“Mummy” twin boy cried. “I feel sick”.
I turned to look at my son and saw he was greener than a row of conifers.
Bugger, bugger, bugger.
We were ill prepared for vomit, no change of clothes, no carrier bags, no water and we were currently hurtling down a dual carriageway with no end in sight.
I am not ashamed to say I panicked.
I launched a packet of ready salted crisps at he who helped create them and told him to start eating to free up the bag, but as he shoved in potato slice after potato slice I could see it wasn’t going to be fast enough to compete with twin boys stomach.
I whirled around once more, terror visible in my eyes. If that sick hit the floor the new car would smell forever more, if it hit his clothes the lions may set upon him in the safari park and then I would be a child down. I considered the idea of removing my shirt to catch the offending liquid but wondered as to whether I would be allowed in the gates at Longleat Safari Park wearing only a brasserie or if they would just toss me in next to Annie the Elephant.
I heard the first gulp as the sick rose in his throat; “mummy” his eyes called to me.
“Don’t get it on your clothes” I screamed wildly.
Then without any thought to my own personal safety I wrenched off my seatbelt, sat on my knees and grabbed the first thing to hand.
Often used to rest ones head on we have been using a pillow to support BB’s legs in spica and it had just been promoted from comfort giver to life saver.
He hurled, he who created them swerved round a corner, I juggled and jiggled a pillow full of puke whilst all the time chanting “not on you clothes, not on your clothes.”. It was relentless, foul in odour and lumpy in texture it kept coming and coming. I didn’t know if the pillow could take anymore. I didn’t know if I could take anymore without sharing some of my own tummy contents.
Then it stopped.
The car ground to a halt, illegally in the bus stop of the number 42 and we leapt like laurel and hardy out of the car, I swept the tainted pillow off his lap in one smooth move without disturbing its contents. Twin boy was lifted by he who helped create them to the side of the street where we checked he was empty and therefore allowed back in the car.
I wiped a tear from my eye,
That pillow was a hero, but it was beyond saving. It gave its life so we could go on safari. That pillow had cushioned by head and sent me off to slumberland for years, but it was time to say goodbye.
RIP pillow, we will never forget you and what you did for us.
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