GROSS WARNING: it ain't pretty

Monday evening I was thinking about sickness. Ted had been sick all day and my stomach was in knots (probably from stress or being tired). I was thinking how there was nothing worse than throwing up. That it was probably the grossest thing ever. Well, I was W-R-O-N-G! See, the grossest thing is being responsible for your poor, sick child who just happened to eat the same thing you did and threw up in his bed. He came to report his malady shortly before midnight. I jumped out of bed and put him in the tub so I could start stripping his sheets. Lucky for me he had (past tense) an egg crate foam pad on his mattress. I just rolled it all up and took it to the basement. While I was trying to get him cleaned up, settled into a clean bed, and not puke myself, I was also looking for a bucket. in case it happened again. I ran up and down our stairs looking in every nook and cranny until I finally spotted one outside. With that in hand I tucked him into his mismatched sheets, under the oversized blanket, and went back to bed. Since he stayed home from school and I had other kids at the house the next day he trotted off to his room in a self-imposed quarantine. When the kids went down for a nap, I went to check on him and offer him lunch. He was lying in bed looking tenderly at his birdhouse (with all of its fascinating doors and hinged roof). He asked for Hot Pockets. UGH.