I am Jack's gag reflex

Our friends Arnie, Beth, and their 6 month old Jack, have been in town staying with us for a few days, while on vacation from their fancy life in London, England. Jack is a factory of adorableness. Arnie, whom I've known since birth, has been swapping war stories with me in the world of child rearing and fatherhood. For every pee and poo story he had, I had one to top him.

Until yesterday.

Jack is a very bouncy kid. Giggles and laughs incessantly. Holding onto him is like trying to hold on to a water weenie, one of those slippery water toys you can't get ahold of anymore. He's constantly moving around. Arnie likes to play airplane with Jack, lifting him up over his head and swinging him around. After a particularly large meal, Arnie had the bright idea of playing Airplane with Jack. Jack, being a baby who was full, decided he needed to spit up. So he barfed, on Arnie. Which in and of itself, isn't a big deal.

Except, they were playing airplane and Jack was directly over Arnie's head.

Which resulted in Jack barfing directly into Arnie's mouth.

You win the story contest, Arnie, you win.

And yet, you also lose.