the voms are in town

So. Usually when a child says they have a sore tummy, their mum or dad or granny or uncle will say, hm, when did you last poo? Maybe you should go sit on the loo for a bit? And the child will go and sit on the loo for a bit and the stomach issue is 'resolved' with a little plopperoo.

Last night this trick didn't work so well. Poor Mol. Grey face. She comes downstairs just as Jack is discovered in the boot of Max's car - on his wedding day NO LESS - to say, muuuuuuuuum, my tummy hurts. So, only looking at the TV, I wave her off with the standard, ah, bad luck, go sit on the loo for a while and see how you do. I'll come up in - oh, just after 8pm?

So, just as the titles role and Roxy's anxious face is frozen for the night, I hear this awful clonking and gargling and screamy-choking from upstairs. Hm. That doesn't sound like a successful trip to the loo I think, and for the first time in 30 minutes I look away from the TV and make a move for the door.

Upstairs.
Carnage.
That's the only word to describe it.
Utter Carnage. Well, that's two words now I realise.
Lumpy utter carnage. Yes, OK, maths not a strong point.
Mol had managed to not recognise that the pain in her stomach was actually her feeling dreadfully sick. And because I'd not seen her grey pallor when she came to check out East Enders, I hadn't linked sore stomach with obliterating her room 15minutes later.
Poor wee thing.
There is something desperately sad (I just deleted 'and funny' because I could be hauled in for child-cruelty) about seeing a small person surrounded by a sea of chunks. So helpless and SO covered. It was a minefield. Where to start I just don't know.
I put on my Professional Cleaner Head and assessed the damage.
1.) Get Mol to a sink and get her pj's off.
2.) This is difficult. Do I strip the bed or do I try to scoop the lumps of (what?) stuff off the linen first? In which case do I leave Mol on her own shivering and grey whilst I fetch bucket disinfectant re-inforced rubber gloves gas mask and plastic sacks?
3.) In fact I went for a bit of all of the above at the same time which may explain why it took nearly 35 minutes to clean up.
Mols bear and a seal and oodles of bed-linen all went into the washing machine. Whack up the heat to about 400-degrees. Sorry Bear.
All cosy in bed, 35minutes later, a bin beside her head, a towel on her pillow, a glass of water, all the home comforts - Mol drifted off back to sleep.
2hours later. Choke COUGH gurgle MUUUUUM.
Replay the above scene, but with a tireder greyer child, a mum who's run out of bed linen, and a washing machine who is aching to be left alone.
This time at least Mol got 2/3rds of the vom into the bin beside her bed. Bin now in Bin. (It was made of cardboard... not sure it'd work if I cleaned it... the room would be at risk of being on perma-smell.)
Thankfully the voms ran their course after that. And we all slept happily ever after.