That's Fiona's carseat, freshly disassembled, laundered, wiped down, soaked, scrubbed and reassembled, hanging to dry from the laundry airer in front of the wood stove.
Original plans had been for a family retreat to a condo a couple of hours away for a couple of days of XC skiing, hot-tubbing and relaxing. When that fell through, we decided to go to the hot springs an hour north, have a soak and treat ourselves to a nice supper at the restaurant. Fiona had been more tired than usual all day, and had inexplicably vomited just before bedtime a couple of days earlier, but had seemed fine afterwards.
About half way to the hot springs she threw up. Maybe it was carsickness? She seemed to be feeling much better, so we decided to try for a swim and dinner. No such luck. She and I had to beat a hasty retreat. We sat in the van talking while she barfed and the others had dinner. It was not exactly a happy time, though she was a trooper and remained in pretty good spirits despite it all.
We drove home and did as much laundry as I could handle doing. Today while she alternately slept and puked, I dealt with steam-cleaning the van and cleaning the car seat. Poor little mite even had to miss aikido. And she won't get to come to Noah's quartet tonight, or to Erin's piano lesson tomorrow.
But let me tell you, that carseat is clean, cleaner than it's been in years. It smells fresh and nice and there is no longer a paper-maché-like layer of cracker crumbs and dried juice in the nether regions of the plastic base.