pathetic, or prophetic?

You may recall from my last post, I quickly mentioned this:

“So despite sleeping horribly last night, interrupted by a vomiting toddler…”

Now, many of you may have read this as the whining of a jaded, careless parent. But no, you’re wrong. That right there is what is called a narrative device. More specifically foreshadowing.

Any amateur writer can come up with a story and use foreshadowing to create intrigue about a plot point he devised earlier. But imagine the sheer creativity, neigh, genius it requires to foreshadow an unknown future event. Some may call it luck, some coincidence. Those people can leave, cause I call it tonybullard.com.

(You can tell how serious I am by all these italics. ITALICS!)

So on to the point. Yesternight (the proper term for “the night before last night”) Noah threw up. I was sure he did it because he got to worked up crying and screaming, coughed to feign sickness, and gagged himself. Yes, he’s just that scheming. So I blew it off. You know, ’cause I’m fricking parent of the year.

JUMP CUT TO: Tonight. Noah refuses to take his vitamins. He usually chows down on these things like it’s the end of the world and we’ve given him anti-zombie tablets. In my effort to coerce him, I eat one. It’s a kids vitamin, I doubt it will kill me. This tactic doesn’t work. We basically force him to eat the thing. Thumbs were pressed into mouths.

Within 3 minutes I feel what can only be described as “gross.” This is fairly low on the scale of “Fine” to “Chest Burster.” None the less, it’s no fun. I say to Teresa, “no wonder he doesn’t like them, I feel kinda gross.” (See that folks? that’s called “consistency.” It’s also known as “doesn’t own a thesaurus.” ITALICS!)

OK, so prayers, lights out, I sit at the computer while Teresa settles him into bed. I here “Tony?” faintly from Noah’s room. I poke my head in.

“How gross did you say that thing made you feel?”

Then, as if carefully planned, I hear the indistinguishable sound of vomiting.

“Geez! Not that bad!” is the first thing that pops out of my mouth. Lights come on, Noah has covered his bed in his dinner, and Teresa runs from the room claiming she’s going to join him in his “Ode to Leftovers.” Cleaning, Changing, blah blah blah.

So there you have it folks. We, Teresa and I (if I go down we all go down!) force fed our child a vitamin that made him vomit. If we can do this, brag about it on the internet, and not get arrested, then anyone can have a child.

Here’s lookin’ at you future parents!