Yesterday I bought a big box of sham chicken nuggets while my wife and La Serpiente Aquatica Negra were at music class. (Come to think of it, why haven’t I given my wife a nickname yet to provide her with some anonymity? Perhaps because I’d risk divorce if I was referring regularly to the Halifax Harridan or the Thing From The Great White North…) My wife laughed at my ineptitude, having managed to locate the most implausible combination of vegetarian and junk food. Of course, she didn’t realise we’d spend most of the night dealing with vomiting, and that she and La Serpiente would keep on chucking up all day. I returned home, hardly capable of thought or speech, but those nuggets were my saviour. I threw them in the oven, waited ten minutes and then returned to child management.

I was very sore today; I think that was Saturday kicking in. Which means tomorrow will be worse, when all the effort of pushing a stroller up and down takes its inevitable effect. Unless the reason I ache so much now is from dealing with vomiting child and hanging up laundry, in which case I will feel super tomorrow.

One plus point of a child who’s sick all night is that she’s relatively quiescent in the morning; I managed to do all the washing up (the crockery was a disgusting heap, akin to the mess in the sink in Withnail And I) without interruption and then still have time to gawp at the internet. That’s about the only good thing I can think of right now.

Still, it’s been five hours since we last put food in The Beast, and she’s kept it in so far. I hope things stay that way, and I don’t need the magic of chicken nuggets again tomorrow…

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