Sushi, anyone?

I know I said that there would be additional installments of the other day's CSI: Buggletown entry. I lied. Well, not so much lied - more like changed my mind. I realized that there really isn't much suspense or intrigue inherent in the barf bash that gripped the Bugglehouse last week.

I thought we were going to get off easy, after Bugglegirl upchucked bits of clementine all over her bed in the middle of the night a couple of weeks ago. Miraculously, nobody else got sick. That is, until five days later, when Buggleboy spent last Tuesday morning puking on every spot on the couch that wasn't covered by a towel.

Wednesday was my turn. I'm still not sure how I managed to pick up Bugglegirl from the co-op and fix her lunch without falling down. I kept having to take breaks every thirty seconds or so, crouching randomly in the parking lot and assuming the fetal position on the floor of the den. Really, you haven't lived until your kid peers right down into the toilet bowl while you're in mid-vomit and exclaims, Mommy, you throw up just like I do!

Even Buggledad, a.k.a. Stomach of Steel, succumbed on Thursday night. But like a true warrior, he rallied Friday night for martinis and steak. It's mind over matter, he gloats. So I have this idea: next time you see him, sidle up close and whisper gently in his ear, Canelloni Porcini and see what happens.