Most new parents will know about this. The silent autopilot in cleaning up a dramatic situation. It’s like, the shock of the mess is so big and bad it can’t leave your body. Instead the horror transfers to your finger tips, legs and parts of your brain required to keep it all together.
Last night was a classic case of the silent autopilot clean up. We were all in bed, Jack had just fallen asleep. Utter bliss as we flipped through magazines and quietly chatted about Christmas plans.
Jack rolled over onto his belly. Pushed himself upwards, threw up and then face planted into his fresh vom. Splat! Onto clean linen. Three layers of clean linen I might add. Coz babies need all sorts of comforters and stuff to make life even more like a cloud.
Now, the ‘early parents’ in us, which means 0-3 months, would have shrieked and flapped and yelled hysterically at each other both doing the same task, twice each. But now we are nearly 8 months in, this is what happened;
Splat! Amy sits up. Closes magazine and walks to cot. Robbie closes book, sits up and walks to bathroom. Amy picks up Jack, wipes Jacks face with muslin. Robbie returns with damp towel and re-wipes his face, hair and hands. Amy passes Jack to Robbie. Robbie puts Jack into our bed between the pillows. Amy removes soiled linen and throws into heap. Robbie grabs heap and takes downstairs and throws into washing machine. Amy gives Jack milk in bed. Robbie returns. Family asleep.
And in the morning, as this photo shows, there is no evidence of the horror from earlier – except perhaps the little protruding knee – a result of mums sleepy popper-popping in the dark!