...we were treated to a bout of unwelcome nostalgia. At around 11pm there was a rather worrying sound from the Fingernails' bedroom. Fingernail II, who'd been feeling a bit under the weather all day, decided the time was right to projectile vomit the contents of her stomach all over her bed, pyjamas and the floor. All hands on deck, here we go again. Twenty minutes later and things looked better, even if the melody lingered on, so to speak. Hoping that good things weren't going to come in threes, Mrs. F and I went back to bed, only to be woken up at 12.50am by a similar sound to before. Yup, Round Two, a major clean of the bathroom floor this time, more clean bedding from the cupboard and a comprehensive mop of the bedroom floor. Surely there was nothing left inside her little tummy...?
4.24am. You've guessed it. Not so bad, this time, but a sleep-breaker nonetheless. Just to be sure we're going to get everything clean today, we've bribed our washing machine with the promise of Class A fabric conditioner and a roll in the hay with a tumble dryer. So far, he's keeping his end of the bargain.
I posted a few vomit-related rants a few years ago and realised this morning that the Fingernails hadn't actually been sick since that time. Sometimes it takes a little reality check like last night to make you realise how good things have been.
This one's for you, Keith; knowing how much you enjoyed the last lot!