Yeah. That's because two times in as many days (this counts as yesterday's night because the sun has not risen and I want to be asleep for the night) I found myself cleaning up vomit.
Now, I'm not going to go into great detail (you're welcome). This is because I was reminded today of a little life lesson- although I really didn't need it. This one was not new information to me. However, take heart, mothers of young children. Here it comes. If I do not have a major role in your child's life (ie grandmother or... well, that's about it) or I do not currently have a child the same age as yours, I am not interested in your child's bodily expulsions. I have, in fact, the opposite of whatever open active interest is. Okay? Sure, I'll cheer for you if Little Jessie finally poops in the potty! But don't go into any smidgen of detail. That's far enough, right there. Your toes? They're kissing the line. (This lesson brought to you at 1:30 in the morning by that woman at work today who felt it necessary to describe what her daughter was coughing up. Godssake!)
So! Once again, cleaning up vomit. Poor Ethan. I'd love for him to actually make the toilet. This time it was the door knob (door KNOB) of the bathroom. (Ugh, cleaning out the lock with my lysol-wipe-guarded fingernail.) As I'm cleaning, Ethan is showering. Life lesson for Ethan! Dear child, whom I love with greater ferocity than the brightest sun burns, do not seem so cheerful as I'm on my hands and knees cleaning puke. I love you, but you test me.
Life lesson three. I need to work on my lung capacity (ie, how long I can hold my breath while cleaning before having to charge out of the bathroom to inhale). Apparently, it sucks.
As I settled Ethan in a nest on the floor of his room (as a head start), trash can at hand, I told him that it was for if he had to throw up again. And, if he thought he could make it to the bathroom, take the trash can with him, just in case he's wrong. "Like those other times," he said in reply. Life lesson number four. A little more humility, a little less matter-of-fact-with-a-little-smirk-thrown-in. Don't push it, kid.