Every parent has had this delicious parenting experience. You all know the one, days where at the crack of dawn you’re awakened to the pitter-patter of little feet as one of your children comes into your room and stands silently at the foot of your bed.
Hubby usually sleeps through it but I, with my
spidee ‘Mom sense’, instantly wake up.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” will come out of my mouth as I struggle to gain consciousness. I always use ‘sweetheart’ – it’s usually too blasted dark to see who is standing there, but you gotta know that one day I’ll be calling a burglar ‘sweetheart’ as they’re standing at the foot of my bed waiting to knife me.
But last night it was my son replying with, “my tummy is really hurting me.”
You know what’s coming. Wait for it.
Yep, there was a millisecond of silence before I was treated to a whimper and the splat of vomit hitting the hardwood floor beside me.
This sound is unique and it is one that will get even hubby, the dead to the world sleeper, out of bed and into motion.
I don’t have to tell you what the last twenty four hours have been like.
All I can say is that I’m glad I haven’t had the time to buy carpets for the bedrooms yet.
I’ll be back to blogging when the puking’s done.