Better out than in!

Warning trigger alert. Unlike previous posts there is humour in this one!

If you knew me in real life I wonder what you would think of me? I’m certainly, in the words of my mother, “no oil painting”, and as for my age, well once again to quote my Mom “I wouldn’t tear at the plucking”.  We all form opinions of people we don’t see, DJs on the radio or bloggers online. However there is something I think having read my blog you may have identified correctly about me, and that is that I love to tell stories.

There has been much sadness on my blog of late, so today I will share a funny story. Or as my daughter says “A story I think is funny” as she sits stony faced listening to me. Honestly I bet the worlds best comedians would not impress her.

Anyway here goes.
When my son was about four years old we were a family of three children. Occasionally on a Saturday we would go to the local shopping centre for a wander around.  The highlight of the shopping was the moment we decided we were ready for home. As I would announce our possible departure my son and daughter would look at us expectantly. Inevitably I’d say, “You know I think I’m a bit thirsty, will we go in for a cuppa?”. My husband would hmm and haww and then eventually he’d agree, and the two children would go mad celebrating.

This particular Saturday we went in as usual to the coffee shop. It was a large open coffee shop in the middle of the shopping centre. As it was Saturday afternoon, it was very busy. The family got a seat and I went up to get the treats. For my daughter a drink of seven up and a large cup cake, and my son got an equally large cream bun and a drink of credit: <a href="">YST (aka kryptos5)</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>

Such excitement when I brought them over. As usual my son couldn’t contain himself. “Wow Mum, Wow, this is the nicest cake ever!”. As he was quite loud in his praise of both the cake and myself people began to look in our direction. “Oh I love it”, he shouted as he bit into the cake squeezing out a large amount of the cream, and putting the rest of it all over his nose and face.  For such a small boy he had a great ability to eat a cream cake in just a few mouthfuls. It looked as if today he was attempting a new record, so just before he shoved  put the last enormous piece of cake in his mouth I interrupted his flow, “Don’t forget your drink”, I said. Words I was to live to regret.

As he put down what was left of his cake, he eyed the large paper cup of coke. “How could I forget my dwink” he shouted. “Thank you Mom”. And he reached over and placed the straw in his mouth.

It was at this point, obviously relieved he was taking a break from the cake, that I turned my attention to the baby. As I fed her her yogurt I was oblivious to the fact that across the table my young son was drinking his drink as if he were dying of thirst. Cheeks almost meeting, he was sucking for Ireland, barely pausing for breath. By the time I looked up I could see I was too late. All was not right in his world. The giant cream cake, the almost half a litre of coke and the copious amount of bubbles were not sitting well in his small stomach. He stopped sucking but never moved. The straw still in his mouth, as his eyes met mine he said panting,”Mom….huh…. huh…” somethings wrong”.

I reached over and removed the straw. His father, who up to now was too busy enjoying his own treat to understand the consequences of his sons excessive drinking, sprang into action. He quickly emptied a bag of groceries all over the floor and ran to my son. As we watched, before our eyes the small boys face changed colour until it became an almost pale lemon, with a splash of green. My husband strategically placed the bag near our sons mouth. Our fellow diners had also become aware of drama unfolding and we had by now quite an audience as they sat watching, unable to look away despite the horror of the situation.

Still panting we watched as my sons eyes opened wide. He looked at me terrified and roared, “It’s coming Mom”. And then it happened. Out of our small boys mouth came the loudest, longest belch I had ever heard. On and on it went echoing round the busy cafe. I could hear those around us burst out laughing.

Eventually it stopped and two more minor aftershocks occurred. Then silence. For a moment we were all shocked. My son looked up at me with the biggest smile and said “All better”, and happily reached for the remaining piece of cake, as I hurriedly removed the remnants of his drink.

My seven year old daughter, who had remained silent up to then, spoke out, “That was disgusting”. I agreed wholeheartedly with her, but truth be told I thought is was so very funny and inwardly I laughed from both amusement and relief!

photo credit: YST (aka kryptos5) via <a href="; photopin cc

28 thoughts on “Better out than in!

  1. Those 4 year olds can be such little rascals. My husband introduced my guys to the simpson’s cartoon recently and today they did not stop making farting noises at the dinner table. Of course I couldn’t help but laugh. I hope they don’t do it at school tomorrow! :o)

  2. Yes, that’s funny!

    My cherub did a burp like that when he was months old and I had him in the baby carrier facing my chest. I thought he had filled my cleavage down to my tummy button but, no, it was all sound and fury signifying nothing…

  3. Wonderful story!!! Love to see you laughing again. And thank for the memory of the night I took my three kids out for dinner when Dad was away on a trip. It was just after the last bite of dessert (“Miller’s River Mud Pie”) when my youngest turned a lovely shade of green, and whispered, “Are we leaving soon?!”

    1. Oh dear. I take it you weren’t as lucky as me! Yes it is good to feel better. Life is so hard for so many, but sometimes you just have to allow yourself to be happy.
      Laughter is great therapy too.

Comments are always welcome.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s