gag reflex

There is nothing like small children to get the gag reflex going.

In the past week, I found myself suppressing the urge to throw up in my mouth on the following occasions:

We went to the Bug Invasion exhibit at the Discovery Center, and Jafta held a four-inch cockroach, that hissed at him as he pet it.  Hissed.  Meanwhile, Karis peered into an egg crate of crickets that someone had set in a box on the floor and TRIED TO EAT ONE HERSELF.

We took the kids to McDonalds playland as a reward for good behavior, and I overheard India giving advice to Kembe about where to play in the play structure.  Specifically, I heard her say, "Don't go in the helicopter part.  Someone peed in there."

We took the boys to the barber.  Each of them got a lollipop, which Jafta promptly dropped onto the floor under the barber's chair and then stuck back in his mouth claiming Five Second Rule.  I am still shuddering at the thought of that hairy lollipop.  
Karis is a big fan of trying on clothes, especially other people’s underwear,  I decided to snap some photos when she sat down and attempted to don two pairs of Kembe’s undies.  It seemed very cute and funny until I realized they had been fished out of the dirty clothes hamper.
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And then, perhaps not as universally disgusting as the aforementioned incidents but equally as gross in my mind for some reason . . .  watching India apply the makeup she received for her birthday.  Her technique: apply all of the makeup to every inch of her face in one setting.  The good news, I supposed, is that there is no longer any makeup for her to play with.  But watching her cover her cheeks, chin, and foreheard in greasy, shimmery gloss that formed a layer of congealed clumps all over her face?  Barf.
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Do your kids do things that make you wanna throw up?  I’d love to hear about it. 

(Well, really, I wouldn’t.  But leave a comment about it anyway.  It’s therapeutic.)



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