So, last night was going along fairly normally. We spent the day hanging around, took in a little retail therapy at Target, where T had to pick up the latest expansion pack to World of Warcrack, had a late lunch at WOW, that sort of thing. A little later, Dubya was lying in my bed watching TV and he started to cough. He has some killer allergies, so this is not unusual. But then he starts screaming, "I threw up in your bed!" "Dad, I threw up in your bed!"
Of course you did, honey.
So, once again, I spent the evening washing sheets and towels. This time, however, the one throwing up had the werewithal to be able to do it in a bucket most of the time. Hooray for independent minded children. The bucket thing worked great until he actually went to bed. He fell asleep in 2.6 seconds as usual. And, then Big D comes out yelling, "Mom, Dubya threw up again! He's throwing up everywhere!" Big D has a flair for the dramatic, so luckily it was not "everywhere." It did, however, mean a whole other set of sheets to be washed, prompting me to mutter over and over, "sheet, son of beetch," which had T cracking up.
So, Dubya spent the night on the couch with the bucket next to him. He only erupted once more in the morning. He was just sick enough to stay home from school, but not sick enough to be quiet for more than 4 seconds all day. It also means I missed doing what I had promised I would help with in his classroom today. I am the worst. room. mom. ever.
He's fine now, but I am wiped out. And, all of our sheets are nice and clean. Sheet, son of beech.