Hurling, The New Winter Sport

So, I'm sure we're all aware by now because we either got the bug or know someone who did, but the ronovirus, that is sometimes called the "Barfing Flu" around here, has been making its way around. I'll spare you the details of how it pains the individual that gets it, but we have been thanking our lucky stars that we, as a family, have not had to suffer its effects. Each time we've remarked on this fact, we've knocked all the wood that we can find.

Alas, this might have been for nothing because last night, for the first time, ever, the boy threw up. Now, he spit up as a baby; they all do. But, never, in two years, has he been sick in a way that made him throw up. Never. Until, of course, last night.

Now, funny story, which I wasn't actually there for, but thanks the Momma's great descriptive talents, I feel as though I was, so now I can share.

Again, the boy has never thrown up, ever. So, when his mother went into his room this morning and found that he had done that very thing, she was beside herself. Now, for you father's out there I'll explain why in a minute; Mommas, you know why. But first, the setting. The boy is standing in the crib, in the room that smells, well, sickly, and he has obviously been talking cowboy at some point because it is on his sleeve, his face, his hair (lots in his hair), on just about every blanket in the bed (six total), as well as on his stuffed penguin.

Now, that's the setting, now picture the character that is waiting for the Momma. Standing in the bed is not the sickly child you would expect but someone who doesn't seem to understand who made the mess in his bed. Like some drunk in the morning after a bender, our son is standing in his own mess wondering how the hell the penguin did all this. He even hands the penguin over to the Momma as evidence of the fowl play. With a few mumbles past his binky, he has expressed what he thinks should be obvious. The bird, at some point, when the boy was asleep, puked. The fact that the penguin was sporting the evidence himself should be condemnation enough.

Now, I love my wife for being there to handle the particulars, and here boys is the reason for why my wife was beside herself, not because of the mess or any such thing as obvious to men ("thank God I didn't have to clean it up"). She was distraught because he had thrown up alone. She was upset because in his moment of need, she had not been able to console him. And, that, your honor, is why I married the lady. Good Momma.

Anyway, no more puke, or any other bodily expulsions, so that's the end of this story. Stay healthy.