Posted on Monday, July 13, 2009
I was having a nap on the couch after dinner yesterday afternoon, cuddling into the Puppychild and dreaming of Spongebob. Suddenly Puppychild got thirsty and began to bug me in my dozy state for milk, but I was having none of it.
“You go get the milk, it’s in the fridge, your juice bottle’s on the table.”
Puppychild ambled away and I dozed off again.
A few seconds later, she re-interrupted my dreams of Cartoonito by shoving her juice bottle in my face, announcing that she had some yummy milk for me and I, in my thirsty haziness took the container gratefully and began to drink.
My senses exploded my awareness into full alert, my oesophagus opened and took no responsiblity for what was about to happen.
“Bluergh…” I ran to the sink and spat, spat again, rinsed, spat, then spent a few minutes trying desperately to keep my steak dinner down. Puppychild watched with great amusement.
Once the gag reflex had subsided and my mouth was mine once more, I asked the kid what the mysterious substance was. She opened the fridge and showed me the carton of buttermilk dated 11th March 2009 that I’d been too afraid to open and re-cycle. Completely and utterly my own fault.
“It’s yummy banana milk mummy!”
It was not yummy banana milk. It was way past sour, we are talking cheese culture territory here. It was a substance that tasted something between gism and liquid brie, and would not remove itself from my taste buds for several hours. The memory of my swallowing it haunted me like that of a sixteen year old after a debs ball, but hold it down I did, and for that I was proud.
Note to self;
#1 – Throw out things after they expire, no matter how gicky they might seem, for sooner is most definitely better than later.
#2 – Never accept any substance from a pre-schooler.
#3 – Never accept any substance from anyone until I am fully awake.