I took Kid C to the dentist yesterday, and yes, I seem to be blogging about him a lot lately. Poor Kid C.
Now, taking a child to the dentist is never fun. Ever. But, taking a special needs child to the dentist is bad. Really bad. (For those of you who are new to the blog, Both Kid B and C have fragile X syndrome and are mentally handicapped. See here , here, or here for glimpses of past adventures.)
Anywho, the dentist was awesome, and Kid C did pretty good. He only threw up twice. What horrible thing was the dentist doing? Drilling? Extracting teeth? Sucking in the laughing gas? Nope. He was brushing Kid C's teeth. Yup. That's how we roll around here.
This got me thinking about some other adventures we've had. Okay, they're more like scary stories, but here's a short one for you to enjoy. We'll pick on Kid B this time.
Kid B loves food. Not likes, or sort-of-loves, but the kind of love that becomes scary. He especially adores pasta salad. Around here we call it Kid B salad and make it every time we have a family get together.
Which leads us to grandma's house and a giant bowl of Kid B salad--and grandma's unlocked cupboard filled with several boxes of fruit snacks. Can you guess where this is heading? Yup. Brace yourselves.
Kid B devoured three enormous plates full of pasta salad then snuck into the fruit snacks. All of them. A few minutes later the groaning commenced. Then came the vomit and the multi-colored mess on grandma's new carpet. Hmmm come to think of it, this might be why everyone refers to it as Kid B salad.
Strange how both these stories deal with puke.
I hate puke.