Ian has some stomach virus today. He woke me up at six this morning complaining that his stomach hurt. About an hour later, the vomiting began. He is all too familiar with what we call the Barf Bowl, and knows to use it when needed.
Today is garbage truck day. More than that, we get visited by two garbage trucks. One picks up our recycling, and another picks up plant material. Ian is laying on the beach towel covered couch. He is gray and still. But, upon hearing an all too familiar screech of brakes, he sits up and softly reports, "The garbage truck is here."
Ian staggers towards the front windows. I rush to grab the Barf Bowl and follow him. He opens the curtains to view the marvelous truck lifting our recycling barrel. Good thing I closely follow him with the Barf Bowl, he immediately begins retching into it. He will not stop watching his beloved garbage truck, but continues looking out the window, all the while throwing up.
The truck finally departs, and Ian pretty much collapses in my arms and I walk him back to the couch. After convincing him that chicken noodle soup would not be a great idea right now, and reading to him a book about garbage trucks, Ian is asleep and hopefully on the mend.