Little Harry Potter and the Technicolor Yawn
Happy Revolution Day to our Mexican neighbors to the south. It seems like everyday is Revolution Day since all of the illegal aliens have taken over, but I digress.
Yesterday, with the School Girl working in W’boro, Little Harry and I spent the day watching sports. It was a festival of NASCAR (for him) and NFL (for me). We had a great time just hanging out and talking about the ever important world of sports. We gorged ourselves on pizza and ice cream, as well as pasta. The latter is of note as it will come into play shortly.
Eventually, the School Girl arrived home. We managed to get a TiVo’d episode of everyone’s favorite NBC comedy, The Office, perused before Little Harry had to march off to bed. He mentioned that his stomach was starting to feel queasy; however, we were all out of the pink stuff or milk of magnesia. Off to bed he went, seemingly only with a tiny tummy ache. We decided that, although it was still early (around 9 pm), we would head off to the land of slumber as well.
Due to the warmth of the bedroom, I was unable to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. I decided to pick up my copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula in hopes that I could finish it this week. I had decided that at the end of my current chapter, I would call it a day and roll over to hunt for dreams. As I got to the final paragraph, my peaceful evening was rudely interrupted.
“Dad, I just got sick!”, came bellowing up from the bottom of the stairs. I toed my slippers from under the bed and made my way to the boy’s bedroom. Now, you have to just picture it. He sleeps on the top of a bunk bed with a small ladder protruding down to the ground from about 5 and a half feet up. This isn’t too far down…not too far, that is unless you have to run to the bathroom. As I entered the room, as far as the eye could see (or at least it felt like that), was the red and white of rigatoni and sausage marinara! To say that he was sick just wouldn’t do it justice. After 45 minutes and a roll of paper towels, then a trip down to the washing machine, everything seemed okay for a nice rest. Harry claimed that he felt much better (I would hope so!).
When I returned to bed, my ever brilliant wife asked me if I left a bucket for the poor guy. I, of course, did not, fully expecting that his hurl-a-thon was completed. I have to give her credit in the fact that I did not receive an “I-told-you-so”. Yes, Mr. Harry, not being one for giving up after one try of ruining the old carpet, went at it one more time. Why is it that no matter how old children are, they can just never quite decide to move their little selves to the bathroom until AFTER the barfing has ceased? Regardless, a few hours of sleep and a few hours of cleaning sure can make a guy tired the next day. Little Harry was still a bit unwell as school approached but hopefully he is feeling better now and hopefully he brushed his teeth again!
Yesterday, with the School Girl working in W’boro, Little Harry and I spent the day watching sports. It was a festival of NASCAR (for him) and NFL (for me). We had a great time just hanging out and talking about the ever important world of sports. We gorged ourselves on pizza and ice cream, as well as pasta. The latter is of note as it will come into play shortly.
Eventually, the School Girl arrived home. We managed to get a TiVo’d episode of everyone’s favorite NBC comedy, The Office, perused before Little Harry had to march off to bed. He mentioned that his stomach was starting to feel queasy; however, we were all out of the pink stuff or milk of magnesia. Off to bed he went, seemingly only with a tiny tummy ache. We decided that, although it was still early (around 9 pm), we would head off to the land of slumber as well.
Due to the warmth of the bedroom, I was unable to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. I decided to pick up my copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula in hopes that I could finish it this week. I had decided that at the end of my current chapter, I would call it a day and roll over to hunt for dreams. As I got to the final paragraph, my peaceful evening was rudely interrupted.
“Dad, I just got sick!”, came bellowing up from the bottom of the stairs. I toed my slippers from under the bed and made my way to the boy’s bedroom. Now, you have to just picture it. He sleeps on the top of a bunk bed with a small ladder protruding down to the ground from about 5 and a half feet up. This isn’t too far down…not too far, that is unless you have to run to the bathroom. As I entered the room, as far as the eye could see (or at least it felt like that), was the red and white of rigatoni and sausage marinara! To say that he was sick just wouldn’t do it justice. After 45 minutes and a roll of paper towels, then a trip down to the washing machine, everything seemed okay for a nice rest. Harry claimed that he felt much better (I would hope so!).
When I returned to bed, my ever brilliant wife asked me if I left a bucket for the poor guy. I, of course, did not, fully expecting that his hurl-a-thon was completed. I have to give her credit in the fact that I did not receive an “I-told-you-so”. Yes, Mr. Harry, not being one for giving up after one try of ruining the old carpet, went at it one more time. Why is it that no matter how old children are, they can just never quite decide to move their little selves to the bathroom until AFTER the barfing has ceased? Regardless, a few hours of sleep and a few hours of cleaning sure can make a guy tired the next day. Little Harry was still a bit unwell as school approached but hopefully he is feeling better now and hopefully he brushed his teeth again!
posted by LeBlanc at 1:18 PM
1 Comments:
You know, normally it is fine and I would be totally ok with it all but man, the guy is 13 years old and he ain't heaving up strained peas anymore! It would be like cleaning up after myself.
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