Case in point, one of my favorite stories to tell. My then 5(?) year old son was in bed, we were all asleep, when I hear him calling. I get up to check on him, and he feels sick. I go to pick him up and tell him it'll be OK. I'm on the "O" portion of OK, holding him facing me, when he throws up. Blammo. All over me. Onto my face. Into my open mouth. Mmmmmmmm someone else's vomit in my mouth.
. . .
OK, I can deal. It's just a bit of barf, it won't kill me. Side note - someone else's barf tastes just like your own. OK - I hold him to me since we're both icky, figure I'll just hop us both in the shower. Pressing him to me so we don't drip because amazingly it's all contained on me and him. Don't want to wake anyone up, so here we go. I take one step.
BARFO #2! All over me and him. It's warm and pooling over my belly where I'm holding him to me. Kind of chilly on the fringes where the first heave is starting to cool.
...
OK. I'm an adult. I can deal. Comfort my child, dash to the shower and don't worry about the dripping, clean it up later. I take step #2.
BARFO #3! All over me.
...
Some things are more than mortal man can handle by himself. I realized it was time to call upon a higher power. I yelled and woke up my wife. She stumbles in bleary eyed to see what's the matter, and sees me holding my son with both of us dripping with barf. She takes him, I shuffle to the shower trying not to drip everywhere.
Did I mention I still had the taste of barf in my mouth?
By the time I get out magically things have been resolved and cleaned up.
........
Good times, good times. One of my favorite war stories actually
Wouldn't trade my kids for the world, non parents just don't understand such things.