Rude Awakening

Christmas was amazing as well as New Years, though I can't imagine why you would have thought otherwise.  Well, amazing to a degree.

Jordan's mom had given us a bag of gifts for Christmas and had included treats for the cats and dogs as well.  We put it under and behind the tree Christmas Eve.  Christmas morning we went to my parents house and when we got home the bag had been torn open from the middle and Brighton had eaten every single last treat in the bag.  We knew it was Brighton 'cause it was his style, that and he had done this before.  The last time he got quite sick off it, but was running around and looked like he hadn't a care in the world.

We watched him closely all day, but he looked to be fine and so we put it out of our minds.

Fast forward to 3 AM the next morning.  Brighton likes to sleep on my back and I woke up to him crawling onto my back and then hurling all down my right arm.  I was groggy with sleep, but just awake enough to watch it roll from my shoulder all the way down my wrist.

Which is exactly what I wanted to wake up to.  So . . . what luck.

I got up and tried to wash the pukey puke from my arm in the bathroom, but couldn't get my arm all the way under the sink and moved on to the kitchen sink.  I'm not sure what woke Jordan up, whether it was the puke, the bathroom light or my mumbled curses, but he came in and flicked on the kitchen light.

All I had to say was "Brighton threw up." And really, what else was there?

I went back into the bedroom and the job was nothing if not thorough.  All over the comforter, sheets and pillow.  He really did a good job.  And there was Brighton in the middle of it all.  I coulndn't be mad at him, he looked up at me with his beard covered in vomit and his eyes said "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it, my tummy hurts."

I told Jordan I'd clean up the sheets/blankets/pillows and put them in the washer if he would clean the Boy up.  By the time I was finished I came into the kitchen to find Jordan mopping up the floor.  I asked if he had thrown up again and he said that Brighton had thrown up a couple more times, and there were a couple piles in the office, most likely before he dropped a load over my shoulder.

We gave him a bath and dried him off as best we could.  The poor guy didn't even struggle, and we layed a towel down for him and he was so sick he stayed there for the rest of the night.

All I could think was that's what you get for eating too many sweets.

But . . .kids will be kids. . .