The One Where the Kid Slept On the Dog Bed

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The Kid, on the way home from school Friday:  "Guess what? [Sweet Little Friend] threw up all over the nap room today.  It was all over!  And we had to be uninvited from that room so that it could get cleaned up.  It was all over, Mom!"

And a warning light and siren immediately began whirring in my brain.

Meep...meep...T-minus 3 hours until vomiting commences...meep...meep...implement emergency laundry procedures...meep...meep....

I shoved all the laundry and dishes I could into the next few hours.  I wanted to be ahead of the game when it happened, which it did, of course, about 15 minutes after dinner.

"Mommy...."  *Hack, hack, wretch...sploosh.*

And then it happened again and again all through the night.

Two things about that.  First, when you lose count, it's bad.  Second, by the last few times we weren't even letting him rinse out his mouth with water afterwards.  I really hope he forgets that by the time he's picking my nursing home, but, for reals, nothing would stay down.

Between Little Miss's feedings and the Kid's opposite tummy issues, sleep was sort of a rare commodity that night.  At one point, though, Sweet Husband and I must have both dozed off because he woke me up exclaiming, "Where's the Kid?!?"  

The trundle bed that the Kid sleeps on in our room was empty.  I rubbed my eyes open quickly and looked out into the hall where the question was answered.  

Moe was snoring on his big bed, and two chubby legs were sticking out from behind him.  I suspect the cool floor was the attraction, but the Kid had wandered out into the hall, curled up next to the dog, and gone to sleep.  

It was the most pitiful thing.  I wanted to move him back to bed, but Sweet Husband grunted tiredly, "He's comfortable, he's sleeping, don't touch."  Moe lifted his head just a little and tilted it to the side in a sort of shrug, so I figured he was OK with it.  Well, I didn't know what else to do but go back to bed myself.

By morning, he had moved back to his bed and had no memory of sleeping with Moe.  He was no longer vomiting profusely, although he was rightfully puny for the rest of the weekend.

We had also used most of the sheets and had 3 baskets of puke-y laundry.  Thanks to my early preparation, though, we did not run out of clean sheets.  

Ask me about the time that happened and we were all sleeping on bath towels.

Actually, perhaps we'll leave that one for another day.