Way Worse

I heard a noise.

It was throw up.

More importantly, it was mobile throw up.

As in, one little child woke up in the middle of the night, started throwing up, panicked, got out of bed, and began the whimpering, stumbling, hands over your mouth throw up train to my bedroom.

Throw up train is among my top 10 favorite ways to be woken up.

Fortunately for me, Max woke up to be fed at the exact moment Landon woke up to... you know. (there are only so many times I can say the act before I start feeling like participating... we've reached that quota)

So, I turned to Brandon and calmly said "I think he's puking" at which point Brandon bolted out of bed, flipped on the light and stuck his hands out under the sick child's mouth. (My Dad used to do that too.)
That's a real man.
(that's also gross)

He, the husband man, then proceeded to help the sick one to the toilet, mop the floor, change the bedding, make a new bed for the child next to the bathroom door, and febreeze the mattress.

I stayed in bed and fed the baby.

I did however offer my condolences to the sick child.

I called him to my bedside and reached my hand out to him.

He found my efforts very comforting and grasped my hand to express his gratitude for my motherly kindness.

Now I am not complaining because my contribution was indeed small.

But


Remember the "high five story" Hit or Miss... the one about the hand covered in nacho cheese Doritos (and stuff)...



WAY WORSE.

Also, sadness, Landon proceeded to throw up the entire night,
and every time husband man was on duty.
Poor boys are both not feeling top notch today
so wish them a quick and speedy, puke free recovery.