Like many of my best ideas, the concept for the NDM Children’s Vomit Scale came from some quality piss-farting-about time on Twitter.
You see, I recently found myself boasting to twitter friend and blogging peer Mister Trivia that, thanks to my Famous Vomiting Children, there wasn’t much about vomit that I didn’t know.
“Why, I could write The Bristol Stool Scale equivalent for children’s vomit,” I boldly declared.
“Do it,” was @mrtrivia’s quick reply. “Name it after yourself. Distribute it to parents planet-wide. Appear on Sunrise. Tell Dr Karl he sucks. Become a media darling.”
And just when I thought my mandate couldn’t be much clearer, he threw in a “Brand yourself ‘Chuck Mom’ for the US and ‘Chunder Mummy’ for the UK and Oz” for good measure. You’ve got to hand it to him: that @mrtrivia has one hell of a strategic mind.
Anyway, I promptly churned out a first draft of the NDM Children’s Vomit Scale. And this is how it’s currently shaping up:
THE NDM CHILDREN’S VOMIT SCALE
|TYPE ONE: Also known as “The Minestrone”, a Type One vomit is a little like a Britney Spears-style comeback of the last meal your child ate: it almost looks the same but is far less palatable. A Type One vomit is always surprising because a) it will almost certainly contain diced carrot even if it has been many moons since your child last even looked askance at a carrot; and b) the quantity of vomit will be much greater than the serving of food your child originally ate.|
|TYPE TWO: A Type Two vomit has a more concentrated, less chunky and eminently spreadable consistency. With the correct dietary input, it can resemble peanut butter. But with added carrot.|
|TYPE THREE: The Type Three is mostly liquid with the occasional chunklet, some of which will, of course, resemble barely-rehydrated carrot. You can heat this up and serve it in a tin mug as “cup-a-soup”. No-one will know the difference.|
|TYPE FOUR: Also known as “The Amoeba”, the typical Type Four vomit usually occurs in conjunction with a head cold. Everything (including the carrot) tends to hangs together in a phlegm-coated globular mass and seeing a Type Four in action is a little like watching someone give birth to an alien life form through their mouth.|
|TYPE FIVE: This is the closest thing to battery acid that the human body can produce, due mostly to the caustic qualities of carrot once finally broken down by the digestive system. Parents are advised to wear rubber gloves when handling this highly noxious substance. If left for too long, a Type Five vomit can burn holes through the floor boards and/or metal bed frames.|
|TYPE SIX: All bile, no chunk (or even chunklets) with an alarming flourescent quality. There has been some speculation that the Type Six vomit is the substance used to to fill those glow-in-the-dark bracelets sold at festivals and school discos. All I know is this here is some bad, bad shit.|
Now, I’m going to delegate the next phase of implementation to you good people. I’m relying on you to pass the link to this blog post to every parent that you know. Even the ones who claim their children never vomit and secretly think I must be doing something terribly wrong like serving dinner on underside of the toilet seat to have my kids vomit as often as they do.
While you’re all busy doing that, I’m going to concentrate on choosing my outfits for the talk-show circuit (perhaps my signature look could be wearing a Sick Bucket for a hat?). I’ll also be mentally preparing myself for being stopped on the street constantly by grateful parents wanting to shake my hand and kiss my feet. “Oh, NDM!” they’ll say to me. “We’re just so happy that we finally – FINALLY! – have a mutual frame of reference with which we can talk to friends and strangers alike about our kids’ vomit.”
And that, ladies and gentleman, is my gift to the world.