Last night I was reminded of one of the weirdest physiological things in the universe...My kids vomit doesn't stink...to me.
Last night Mabel boofed. All over her room. On the floor, her bed, the other bed, the sink, the bathroom floor, the bathroom cabinets, etc. I am giving the locations not to gross anyone out, but merely to provide some context. Simply, put Mabel had a major boof-fest. She was fine all day yesterday so it must be the fact that she ate about a dozen chocolate chip cookies while the babysitter was there that lead to the "booffet."
But as I drew the short end of the straw and did the haz-mat duty while the Beautiful Bride did the comfort session with Mabel, I realized that the smell of the boof did not bother me. Cleaned up the whole thing, not so much as inkling of a stomach twitch, had it been another kid, the smell would have sent me running to the potty post haste. But for some reason, the smell of any funky bodily function from my kids does not affect me. Not a bit.
Wonder why God made us with built in tolerance for our kids spewage? Fascinating.