Ground Zero

This morning The Spare woke up uncharacteristically early. She came in crying that her stomach hurt. The natural question from buried under the covers being, "Are you going to throw up?" She said she didn't know and I preceded to ask her to get her butt to the bathroom because I was not in the mood to clean puke off the carpet at 5 am. It never ceases to amaze me that when one of my kids feels sick to their stomachs they have to come in and tell me first. As if they need my permission to go to the toilet and throw up. I tell them over and over again, PLEASE if you're going to hurl make your way quickly to the bathroom. Do not stop along the way to inform me you are doing so. I'll know you're throwing up with the first splash. Over the years, I've had to clean up my share of puke filled bed sheets. It's not fun. Ok, I digress, back to The Spare. The poor thing had a fever of 101. I don't know what she had or where she could have gotten it but it came on fast. She spent most of the day sleeping, which is definitely a sign that she is not feeling well. The Heir would sleep all day if I let her. The Spare is up at the ass-crack of dawn and she is in no way a quiet person in the morning.  She was feeling well enough to hit Rita's for dessert tonight though. I'm hoping this doesn't come back to bite me later with an early morning visit to the porcelain throne.  Usually my kids are only down for 24 hours.  They're back to normal almost instantly. The Spare really wants to go back to summer camp tomorrow so I do hope she's feeling better. It's never fun when your kid is sick. Now, if she passes those germs on to me I'll be sick for a month. As The Knight put it this evening, we're ground zero for the CDC right now. Ha, ha. Guess who's getting a big, sloppy kiss when I see him tomorrow.