What's that smell?

Tonight I find myself heading out to the car to scrub the interior and sprinkle some odour-absorbing baking soda.  It all started yesterday when I went to the store to pick up some milk and other staples.  Unbeknownst to me, the cap on the milk jug was just loose enough to allow milk to leak out all over the passenger-side floor of the car on the ride home.  I tried to mop it up as best I could, but by the next morning it smelled pretty bad.

Today, during the boys' afternoon nap, I went down to the car, cleared out the clutter, and applied baking soda to the affected area.  When the boys awoke a couple hours later I packed them in and we drove off to a gas station to use their car vacuum.

On the way, Eliot complained that he wasn't feeling well.  He hasn't been feeling well for the past week; a cold that's just sort of holding on.  As I pulled up to the station I assured him that it wouldn't take long.  He continued to complain.  I pulled around to the car cleaning area and let him out of his car seat to help relieve his angst.  He continued to complain.  I was convinced that the best way to help him would be to get the vacuuming done as quickly as possible, and then hurry home where he could get some rest.  I tried to convince him of the same, while furiously wielding the huge vacuum hose.  It only took a couple of minutes, because I only paid for the minimum 4 minutes, and I didn't even use it all up.

I turned off the vacuum, gave the floors and seats a few generous squirts of New Car scent, and turned to Eliot, "See?  All done!"  Eliot looked at me--and threw up all over the driver's seat.  Life: 1.  Nora: 0.  Luckily the diaper bag was in the seat and caught most of it, and I recovered from the shock quickly enough to have my hands cupped and ready to catch round two that followed just as quickly.  I whisked Eliot out of the car, stripped off his soiled clothes, and put them in a plastic bag that I somehow had on hand.  I cleaned up the car as well as I could, with the diaper wipes I had, and then we drove straight home, with the windows down.

There is a sort of poetic justice in the fact that I was so intent on getting rid of one stink, that I missed the warning signs that led to another, and arguably worse, stink.  And then of course there's poor little Eliot.  At least he's at an age where he can make it to the toilet, so that's a relief.  I hope it's just a 24 hour bug.  I've got Peter and myself on close, cross-contamination watch.  Anyway, the milk smell is gone.