C puked last night.

So I woke up at about 4am to a little voice going, "Mom". C was in my doorway - normal protocol if he can't sleep and needs me is to sneak up to near my head and wake me up super quietly, so he doesn't wake his Dad.

Since C had broken protocol, the first words out of my mouth were to shush him, and the first thoughts in my head were not too charitable.

Then he said one of the most dreaded sentences that can come out of a child's mouth at 4am.

"I threw up."

Whoa, time to crank up my sleeping brain and start damage control.

As I joined him in the hallway and closed the door to my room, I started gathering intel - asking questions about, how much, and where he puked, did he make it to the bathroom.

My hope for best case scenario (just a little bit in the bathroom, or even just a little bit in his room) was shattered when C answered in the sweetest little voice, dipped in understatement.

"It's kind of a lot."

I sent him to take a shower and entered his room for proper evaluation of the damage.

Umm...crap, "kind of a lot", indeed.

All over his bed, all over the blankets on the floor, dripping down the edge of the mattress, and even pooling in a spot on the laminate in a gap between the bed and the floor blankets.

So every piece of blanket and sheet ended up in the laundry room.

I stripped the old sheet off the couch in the living room to put on a new one for C. I left the old one on the floor as protection for the carpet. I put out a towel on the couch and one on the old sheets. The one thing C managed to miss was his pillow (he told me this morning that once he realized he couldn't make it to the bathroom he tried to puke away from where he was sleeping), so I set him up with his pillow and a couple of blankets on the couch. He got his own puke bucket (an old Folgers container, standard for puke buckets around here) and settled in for the rest of the night.

I wandered back to bed myself after I started the first load of wash.