When I see the first Christmas lights go up, I feel such excitement but also melancholy because once the Christmas season begins, its end is inevitable. The joys of December will fade too soon into the mundane obligations of January. The problem with being this obsessive about Christmas is the absolute desolation when it is over. That is why I leave the tree up until June. Okay, actually that only happened once and it was because we missed the pick-up day in Palo Alto and then couldn’t figure out what to do with the tree other than let it dry out on our front patio–for six months.
Wait, snap out of it! It’s still Christmas break. My house is still decorated! Speaking of decorating the house, I have a decidedly gross story to tell which you may want to skip. You’ve been warned.
Santa brought Fluffernutter a book of science experiments to try at home. We already demonstrated how a piece of paper can keep water in an inverted cup. That is so nerd-cool!
Not to be outdone, Peppers decided to try to break the world’s record for surface area covered by a single bout of vomitting. His method was genius. He vomited half onto the top of the stairs, and half into an open empty water bottle–which he then threw down the stairs. Yes, the very stairs I was so happy to have carpetted.
Truly, the results were astounding. As it bounced repeatedly down the stairs, the vomit rocket shot projectile puke spatter up the walls a full 4 feet higher than my head. There are places I can’t even reach to clean without a ladder. And the places I could reach? Oh, how much more exciting it is to scrub and shampoo all 17 steps worth of carpet instead of just one flat area! And what fun to dig chunks out of all the decorative molding along the stairs as well. And it’s not like the vomit rocket reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped–oh, no! It rebounded spraying its splendor over the refrigerator, the kitchen floor, 5 ft up the panty door, and–yes!–throughout the pantry as well. If the SciGirls made a graph of how much surface area this method covered it would be nothing short of phenomenal.
But that would really miss the point because the most impressive facet of the incident was not how many far-flung regions the vomit visited. No. My friends, it was the smell. The Peppers Microbiome is a force to be reckoned with and has been the topic of discussion at multiple pediatrician visits (“Is he supposed to smell like that?”), but never until the hour Kent and I spent working flat out in a tunnel of chokingly bad, 3D vomit reek have I appreciated the true power of the Peppers.