Well, since you asked....
It would have to be last Friday in Montreal.
We're at this Mexican restaurant on Saint Catherine's Street with a friend of JEM's.
Max had had a really long day (he walked all day long and he never complained) and was crawling back and forth under the table between JEM and I. He comes to rest in my lap and mumbles at me, "Mommy I don't want to blah, blah."
"What's that Max?" I ask.
"Mommy I don't want to be blah." he whispers.
"You don't want to be what?" I ask.
"Mommy I don't want to be sick."
"What, what, are you going to be sick? Oh, oh, oh dear." At this point I am madly looking around for something he can use to be sick. Nothing!!
So, to make my uncle the pilot proud, I used myself to contain the pineapple/goldfish cracker/yogurt vomit that made its way out of poor, poor Max. I was completely covered in puke. The whole front of my shirt and my lap with chunks of partially chewed pineapple.
So, we did what any normal people do, I sent JEM out to buy me new shirt next door. Max passed out on the bench (he felt much better), I went downstairs and cleaned up in the bathroom, came back and finished my strawberry Marguerita and ordered dinner.
Kudos to Erik's buddy who took everything in stride even inquiring as to whether the puke was warm and wet.
For those that are interested, it was cold and clammy.
Your turn - What's the grossest thing that's ever happened to you?