The shirt off my back

You know that look. You see it coming. Your heart races, you grab a towel, blanket, something that’s around and you jump …
… and then it happens. Your kid pukes. Bet you never puked while sitting in a chair (I somehow doubt that George H.W. Bush reads this blog). It is decidedly not pretty. And that brings up the question, yet again, how on earth can they sell wheelchair seats to this population that don’t have washable covers? Or the laterals (I made them custom sew covers for Pearlsky’s lats … good thing).

So, there we are, she is tossing and I am catching. I was able to grab a dish towel sized towel (ok, a dish towel) and hold it in a way that I caught most of it. She stopped a second. I knew a second wave was coming, so I shouted for someone to bring another towel until I realized … duh … what the “single” in “Single Dad” meant. It meant no one was bringing another towel. I saw one across the room … hmm … will the timing work? Do I chance overflowing the one I am holding or go for the clean one … and what to do with the one in my hand on the way …

Now that I have you in grossed out suspense …

Using my extraordinary superior mind, I found the solution. Yes, a piece of cloth big enough to hold the “dirty” towel, as well as the second wave. After that we were fine.

By the way, you may not want to buy that “worn once” shirt on ebay being sold by SingleDad


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