One day in Sixth grade the kid across from me puked. No warning, just vomit suddenly emerging from his mouth, orange and fragrant, smelling too much like the cheeze-puffs he'd ingested shortly before. Those of us fortunate enough to not loose our lunch spent the rest of the day in a room smelling like cheese vomit.
Amazingly to me, vomited cheeze-puffs smell quite a lot like vomited cheddar cheese, or so I discovered this morning. I gave Sylvia a piece of cheese, no bigger than she usually gets, and she shoved the whole thing in her mouth, gagged on it, swallowed it, and then vomited it up.
Oh, and did I mention our garbage disposal backed up last night, so I couldn't rinse it down the drain?
I got her to the toiled for the second round of retching, but didn't manage to aim her head and ended up with cheese vomit on my pj's. Something I didn't realize until I was eating my cheerios, wondering why it smelled like I was still stuck in that sixth grade classroom, across from the kid who puked.