After a seemingly peaceful night of sleep, I was jolted awake last night at 3:45AM.
I wasn't really sure why I was up. The house was quiet. Something just felt off. I silently bemoaned my stupid sleep patterns and tiptoed down the hall, peeked in on the kids, silently thanked sweet baby Jesus that Owen was over that stupid black plague of a stomach virus and decided to sneak back to bed for some late night infomercial watching until I could fall asleep again.
At 3:58 on the dot, I heard little footsteps coming down the hall followed by a small voice.
"I frew up on Owen's bed, Mom."
And, oh dear, she wasn't kidding. It was on the bed. On the floor. On the pillows. On her.
So I scrubbed carpets, did laundry, cleaned up my girl and then bathed myself in Lysol at 4AM.
And down the drain went any plans we had for Friday.
We're having a really fun, feverish time around here obviously.
Any bets on who gets it next?