Last night, as Matt and I were falling asleep, with a bit of glee in my voice I reminded him that we didn’t have to get up for anything this morning. The boys had been told to stay in bed until 7, and even when they woke I’d planned to tell them to read or build Legos or something.
Fast-forward to 5:25. Bennett is at my bedside, complaining of a stomach ache. I set him up in a makeshift bed on the floor, and within 30 minutes, he’s throwing up in my bathroom.
It’s now 6:35, and my poor guy’s been sick twice since then, but he’s feeling a little better. He doesn’t feel like sleeping, which I understand, but he needs to stay in my room, isolated from the rest of the house. I offered to turn on the tv for something to do.
Which brings me to why I’m blogging this, and why he’s making me smile this morning despite the awful start: of the shows on the DVR, he immediately chose to watch the still-saved Illini victory over Indiana basketball game from last week. Even though he saw it live when it aired.
I love that kid.
(And I’m praying he’s the only one to get this sickness.)