The boy just puked.

So I'm trying to find pictures for Chas' Special Day book and the boys are playing and I start to hear coughing. Not just coughing, really, more like the beginnings of retching. So I look just in time to see Eddie gagging. Then voluminous quantities of puke began pouring out of his mouth. He whimpered. I yelled for Steph, still largely in disbelief at how quickly this came on. Eddie recovered for a moment, then puked again. As this is happening, somehow and for reasons I can't begin to understand, let alone explain, I pointed him back toward our leather couch. Maybe I was thinking he'd already gotten vomit on it, might as well keep it there. But during the second round, I suddenly realized this was insane and pulled him toward the hard floor, where the ending vomit landed. As this was happening, I watched a giant pile of the stuff slide down the arm of my side of the couch.

That was an hour or more ago. He is now in his undies, playing blissfully as if nothing happened. I hate to tell him this, but he still smells vaguely of vomit. What the hell is it about kids these days that they can vomit without having it ruin their day?