There is no point for this picture, other than to distract you from all the vomit in this post.
I have ARRIVED, people. Picture this: I'm laying in bed this morning, when the wee ones came to snuggle up with me like they do every morning.
The Dude hugged me and sighed - "I love you."
WonderGirl leaned in close and said -"I threw up last night."
Huh? "When?? Did daddy come help you??"
"It was around 11. I just threw up in my bucket and went back to sleep."
I climbed up the ladder to her bunk bed and sure enough, there it was, sitting neatly in her puke bowl next to her pillow.*
My angel child threw up in the middle of the night and there was no groggy wandering around the house, throwing blankets into washing machines and throwing kids into showers.
Typing that out now - I got a little sad. I remember when I thought if arrived when my poor 2 year old had to sleep inbetween us and when she started coughing, we'd put the bowl under her and when she was done, she'd squeak out a request for water. Parenting is SO weird.
I still have two more chances to clean up puke. Yay! ?
* Ever since her very first night on the top bunk when she christened the bed with the vomits while she was trying to climb down, there has always been a puke bowl.