I had a sick kid over the weekend. This is where you get into the glamorous part of parenting. Cleaning up vomit in the middle of the night. Then you sit there and suffer right along with them. It's all part of it, though. You take the good with the bad. And it was bad. About every half-hour or so. I ended up sleeping on the couch with him and holding the bucket every time. Grandma and Grandpa had to brave the below zero temps and wind yesterday to bring soup, since I didn't have any. But they don't mind doing stuff like that for the kids. My brother and I joke that the grandkids rank at the top. Then it's the dogs. Then him and I are at the very bottom.
Anyway, he's only five, but I hope he remembers these moments. Because as bad as they seem, I think they are the moments when your true colors as a parent shine through. Except for not having the soup, I think I did pretty well.