It's fuschia really. And so...fruity and disgusting.
Yesterday morning Evie whined that her tummy hurt, then doubled over, writhing in pain on the floor, with more high pitched whining. The drama was so intense I even thought Maisey learned a thing or two.
I blamed it on Evie eating 4 fruit snacks while I took a shower--thanks to big sister for getting them while they watched Scooby Doo. After about twenty minutes of resting on Mommy while I rubbed her tummy, Evie looked up at me from the couch and out erupts this chunky fuschia liquid. And then we made the mad dash to the toilet.
Kuddos Dad and Maisey and hail their iron stomachs for helping to spot and clean up the trail of hot pink puke while Mommy cleaned and cuddled her sick little girl. Or should I say big girl. Well done Evie. You have graduated to the world of throw up. No more namby pamby baby milk smelling spit up for you.
And now I have all the ammo I need to prevent the eat-nothing-but-sweets battle. At least until the memory of a grumpy tummy and fuschia vomit fades.
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