All you can eat, and then some

It's Christmas Eve. If there is a better way to celebrate than All-You-Can-Eat, I don't want to know about it. My little family braved the slippery roads (conditions are the worst yet on day 10 of Winter Blast 2008, as the snow is melting into slushy ruts) and journeyed to Izzy's for dinner. It's "pizza, plus a whole lot more," you know!

For generally being regarded as a food snob, I've gained an unexpected affinity for Izzy's. Gary illuminated for me the unique, buttery crunch of their signature thick pizza crust. The salad bar is extensive and fresh. They even have a few dinner entrees which surpass the usual quality of buffet fare. And the buffet concept suits the dining style of a toddler perfectly: "a bite and half of 17 different items, please."

Our Christmas Eve dinner was stupendous. The menu was just fine, I mean it is only a buffet after all, not fine dining. What made this meal so enjoyable was Madelyn's 100% agreeable temperament from beginning to end. She ate and ate and ate, she talked and laughed, she didn't squirm out of her seat or throw a fit when we took something away, she wiped her mouth with her napkin, she wiped her ducky's mouth with her napkin. Are you getting the feel for our Christmas Eve miracle?

Even during the drive home Madelyn was either quiet or cheerful. Being stuck in her carseat often makes Madelyn cranky, and it was nearing her bedtime. About a mile away from home, she started talking up a storm in the backseat. I turned around to visit with her, just in time to see her stick her finger down her throat, gag, then giggle with delight. I think it's common for younger babies to get a kick out of discovering their gag reflex, which Madelyn did a long time ago.

I said, "Madelyn, don't do that, it's icky," then turned back around. I heard her gag again, followed by satisfied laughter. I just shook my head and muttered, "Bulimic baby."

You've probably figured out where this is going. If you're feeling a little slow tonight, I'll give you a hint: my washing machine is full of carseat straps and buckles as we speak.

We arrived home, and when I opened the back door to get Madelyn out of her seat, she lifted her arm and said, "Wet." She didn't have her cup of water to spill, so puzzled, I felt where she was pointing and--wet, indeed. Wet and chunky. At that moment I caught a whiff of regurgitated Izzy's and almost made my own contribution to the mess.

Madelyn has only thrown up one other time, and it was last Christmas day. A bunch of people in my family got very very sick, but Madelyn just puked once and was fine. On both occasions her vomit has smelled rather sweet, which I think is odd. Is it a baby digestive thing? This time, of course, she was not sick at all. She was just purging after the buffet binge.

After picking off a few spaghetti noodles, I stripped Madelyn and put her straight into the bathtub. I was dismayed to find that removing the carseat cover is either impossible or, more likely, very complicated and arduous. Thankfully, the worst of the mess was on the straps, which I was able to unthread and throw in the washer. I just hope I can remember how it all goes back together. Because, you know, I trust my child's life to those 82 inches of nylon.

I'm all about family traditions. But I don't think Christmas Vomit should be one we all go sticking our fingers down our throats to preserve.