Emily came running in our bedroom around midnight Friday night. She got up to go to the restroom and could smell puke. Noah and Ben were sleeping in Ben's bed. I walk in and step in it. Projectile vomit about 8 feet. Even worse, Ben went right back to sleep.
Sunday morning. Emily wakes up not feeling good. A few hour later... Puke. The good thing is it seems to be a 12-15 hour thing.
Monday afternoon. Me. Oh no. Not when I have kids to pick up from school and work to get done. Emily was so sweet. She unpacked their backpacks and lunchboxes. She got me water and took care of the boys. She's such a sweetheart. Luckily (or unlucky for David) I held off puking until he walked in the door. I've been laying down in the bedroom for a few hours and we communicate by text.
You gotta love technology.
Here's praying the other 2 escape it.
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