Son

Splat

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.


Sigh.

10 thoughts on “Splat

  1. I’m so sorry. Hope things get better quickly and that stuff doesn’t spread.
    And I’ve gotta give you props for the sweetheart bit. When my poor children wake me from sleep they’re lucky not to get involuntarily smacked. Sadly, I don’t wake well.

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  2. Ugh. Poor kid. I hope he/she/sweetheart’s feeling better.
    You’re kind to welcome your little one so sweetly when he/she gets you up early: I’m usually more grumpy when our school-ager wakes me up.

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  3. Well, we just got over that too. Must be the summer flu bug. Hope you get through it quickly and the germs avoid you. I love the sweetheart burglar comment. Hilarious!

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  4. Ah, yes. Maybe you should rethink those carpets. The first time Diego ever threw up, he had just eaten a bunch of tomatoes. Even now, a couple years later, he refers to vomiting as “when the tomatoes come out of my mouth.”

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