Eating My Own Words

This last Saturday night Kev and I went to dinner with some of the British soldiers that are on their way home. (To dial everyone in... Kev works as a flight medic at a National Guard Aviation Training site and the British send their troops over during the year to use our facilities.) We had a lovely evening out. I was chatting with one of Kev's co-workers about sick children. Her little girl had recently had the flu and we were chatting about how much it stinks to clean up after a little one in that state. I bragged a little that Ryley had always been able to tell us with enough time to make it to the sink or toilet and that Ben had not yet thrown up. (Mind you Olivia had thrown up three times at lunch on Friday, and I just figured it was just something she ate.) At 4:45 Monday morning Ryley comes screaming into our room, in a fit, and Kev gets to her just in time for her to vomit all over our floor. The ones I just had cleaned. Out of all the new tile in our house she makes it two steps onto the carpet right at the foot of our bed. It was miserable having her so sick. On Tuesday Ben followed and by Wednesday all three kids were down for the count. We spent a week with the full blown flu and I chalk it up to me opening my big mouth!