Sick

Everyone is sick around here.  Okay, maybe not everyone.  But it sure feels like it.

I was laying in bed last night, so proud of myself for getting everything done and being in bed by 10:00, when it started.  I heard some rustling around, but assumed that it was someone just getting up to go to the bathroom.  Then Brady appeared in our doorway.  "Dad, I threw up a little in my bed."

Nice.

Poor boy.  What seven year old do you know who, without making a sound or complaining, throws up all over himself in his bed, then gets up, changes his clothes, washes up, and only comes in for help when he can't find a new pillow case.  It turns out he needed much more than a new pillow case, and spent the rest of the night on our floor, where he only threw up one more time at some point during the night (I was half asleep as I cleaned up the blankets and got him new ones).

John is also sick.  He is not as good of a sick person as Brady is, but I have to give him some credit because he is much better than he used to be.  No more laying under the covers shivering and groaning.   He is upstairs taking a nap as we speak.  We will see if he makes it to class tonight.

And about 30 minutes ago, I got a call from the school nurse.  Isaac was in her office, sitting in her bathroom, ready to throw up at any moment.  I raced to the school (in John's vinyl-covered-seat truck) to pick him up.  He showed no signs of being sick this morning, but is now up in his bed, asleep.  He must be genuinely sick, otherwise he would have argued and bantered more about Brady playing Wii while he, on the other hand, was being sent to bed.

So much for my productive Monday plans of getting the house in tip-top shape after the weekend, and getting myself on the treadmill.  I am waist-deep in laundry instead.