Warning: Don't read if you have a problem hearing about bodily fluids

Yesterday was interesting! Looking back on these events I see the error of my ways but at the time I was either naive or an idiot not to see what was coming. The day started off like many mornings with a trip to Waffle House. As I'm getting Brannon out of his carseat I hear him mumble, "Mommy I have a little poo poo in my underwear." Pause... I have a choice. 1.) go inside Waffle House and take care of the issue and let him finish his business or 2.) get back in the car and run the risk of him completing his business in his carseat. I chose option #1. I would like to believe it was because I was seriously concerned with the potential risk to the carseat and not because I was drooling over my future scattered, double covered, and diced hashbrowns. So on to the very clean (Ha!) Waffle House bathroom where "a little poo poo" turned into a leak through the underwear onto the pants. Well, while business was being completed I cleaned (not really sure if that word is appropriate) out the area of interest and dried the pants with the hand dryer (now I know why those things exist). One of my favorite earrings did drop in the toilet during the wiping process (and NO I did not retrieve it) but other than that I thought we came out okay in the end. So I'm sure some of you would have packed right back into the car but not us. We sat down, ordered, and enjoyed a wonderful breakfast. Brannon is acting fine at this point so we decide to go home, change clothes, and still meet our good friends at the science museum for our playdate. Brannon and Taylor have a great time playing with their friends and we have no accidents. So, when they ask if we can join them for lunch I say sure. Off to Chick-fil-A with our combined 5 kids. Get our food, sit down, and Brannon says "I need to go potty." I'm happy because we make it in time to avoid another disaster. Continue the meal when all of a sudden we are interrupted by Brannon spewing the entire contents of his meal all over the table and floor. I pick him up mid-vomit and carry him to the nearest door (to the playground) where he continues to heave. He hasn't thrown-up in over a year so he has no idea what's happening and is scared to death. While we're outside my friend brings out her daughter who begins vomiting beside Brannon. (She vomits when she sees vomit.) When they finish I leave them outside to go back and check on my screaming baby who is really mad that I stopped feeding him. I avoid eye contact with all the onlookers because I really don't want to know what they are thinking. Our friend comes back in from outside, sees the vomit again, and starts gagging. Her mom looked at me and I said "Go." She quickly rushes her to the bathroom and I stay with the remaining three kids while watching Brannon through the door, covered in vomit, shivering from the cold, and crying. Awesome! I pack screaming Taylor up in the carseat and shove a bottle in his mouth. My friend returns, we send all kids that can walk outside to the playground, and we attempt to clean up the mess. During this process one of the workers comes around and asks us if we would like to sample some brownies. REALLY? No thank you. The remaining minutes are a blur. The next thing I know we are back in the car on our way home and Brannon is in nothing but his underwear and socks smiling and acting like nothing is wrong. "Mom, can we go back and finish my fruit and go down the slide?" You have got to be kidding me.