I was working on a project last night around 9:30 when Eli came padding into the room. He’d been in bed for over an hour, and now here he stood, looking distraught, his arms held out in a drooping cruciform. “Daddy,” he said, and “daddy.”
Then the smell hit me.
We went into his room to clean up his supper and a good portion of his lunch, which was now on his bed, his clothes, and his two favorite stuffed animals. We whisked everything off and to the washing machine.
(I guess I should have warned you about the vomit ahead of time. Sorry! Think of it this way: you got as much warning as we did.)
Eli sat with Misty while I cleaned up. “I’m sorry,” he told us several times. He then vomited again into a metal bowl I’d grabbed for such an emergency. “Thank you for cleaning me up.”
He proceeded to throw up every fifteen to twenty minutes. I offered to sit with Eli, but he was having none of that. He wanted mom. They read and watched TV before settling down to fitful dozing. I brought paper towels and cleaned out the metal bowl as needed. Misty finally sent me to get some sleep around midnight, and at 1 Eli had been asleep long enough that we felt safe to put him to bed. I stumbled out of bed to help get him to his. He was so tired that he tripped over the edge of his bed, fell face first into the mattress, and was asleep again.
He got up at 6, but now he’s back in bed. Don’t expect much from us today.