He’s 15 years old now. Yet still, when faced with nausea occurring with any illness, he is the same as he was when he was a toddler. That is, he never makes it to the toilet to vomit. Never. If he did, I’d probably reward him with cash.

He was stricken with the flu in the middle of the night. He had been asleep in the recliner. (Which I sent him to after listening to he and Boy #2 act like 3 & 4 year olds for 30 minutes at bedtime.) He made it out of the recliner, through the kitchen and then from the laundry-room doorway to about a foot away from the toilet he made his disgusting trail of vomit.

Seriously. I do not exaggerate, this child has never made it all the way to a toilet or trashcan in his life. If he calls home from school to say, “Momma. I’m sick. I threw-up.” I am ashamed to admit, I find it fishy if he says he got sick in the bathroom, in an actual toilet.

Gods love him. At least he got a dirty towel out of the hamper to cover it with. I’ve still got to clean that up once my stomach settles.