My
mother tells me that when my brother was young and had obviously just been
weened onto a bottle he would throw up a lot.
His vomiting never seemed to upset him or stop him from doing whatever
he wanted. He would crawl around the
house leaving a trail of vomit behind him.
We (or rather my parents) found out later that he had a food intolerance
that was causing him to reject food. It
seems that I gave myself the job of chief vomit cleaner. He was around six months old and I was all of
two. I would follow him around the house
wielding a (somewhat soiled, one suspects) cloth nappy (or diaper for any
Americans) cleaning up vomit spills as they occurred. I am guessing my mother then followed me
around, cleaning my cleaning. She may
even have wished that I desist from rubbing vomit into the carpet with my
trusty cleaning cloth.
