Ride. Rest. Repeat.

Mommy, hindi hotdog yan

This is a bit gross, but grossness runs in my family so the story has to be told.

As we were waiting for the screening time of “Harry Potter 4” at Shangri-La Mall in Mandaluyong, we decided to kill the time by having a few drinks at the new Starbucks on the 6th level near the cinemas. There was a very nice seating area on the walkway towards the cinema, comlete with really really comfortable chairs and small center tables perfect for a cup of coffee.

Des and I ordered our drinks and headed back to the table. The kids had some sort of Vanilla shake, I really don’t know since I was too busy people watching as Des ordered our drinks. It was good, so good in fact that Marco had finsihed nearly half of it in a couple of minutes. So there we were, a picture perfect family, enjoying a Sunday afternoon, that’s when the “picture perfect” moment ended as the spectre of my lineage reared its’ ugly head.

Marco started to look around, with a distressed look in his eyes, holding his stomach. “Mommy, sakit tyan ko” (my tummy hurts). So Des and I immediately knew what it meant. Marco was about to chuck up. Des quickly took him by the hand and I handed her the bag. It was done in a perfect, practiced motion since we had been through the same drill countless times already.

As the two were walking briskly down the walkway, full of people, families waiting for their screening times, I saw Marco stop and bend over. This was it. I sprung up from my seat to help Des. I got the bag from her and got the tissue and baby wipes from the bag. Des was busy with Marco as he was spewing his last meal on the floor in front of all the people (bet they lost their appetite).

Des, in an attempt to keep Marco calm, engaged him in light conversation. She was asking Marco what he had for lunch that made him throw up, and based on the forensic evidence in front of us she concluded that the culprit was Mr. Swifts Mighty Meaty Hotdog. So she asked. “Marco, you had a lot of hotdogs ano?”, to which my son, in his own brilliant way replied….”throwing up….pause…Mommy, hindi hotdog yan!……pause…throw up” (Mommy, that’s not hotdog). Bwahahahaha that’s what you call grace under pressure.

It was only later in the night, when we were telling this story to my family, that we found out, from Marco himself…..well let me tell you how he did it…

As my family was cracking up and laughing at how the story unfolded, Marco went beside me and Des and whispered…..
“Mommy, tocino po yun”


I love my kids!! I swear!!

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