After dinner on Monday I told Mel I wouldn't make it through the night.
I knew there was no chance I would make it until morning without barfing. My stomach was churning and I knew there was no way around it. It was inevitable. Finally at 9:40pm I grabbed for the garbage can and up came the beef stew. (I'm sorry. That was too much information. You didn't need that visual. Sorry.)
Then guess what happened! I was walking to the bathroom to empty my garbage can and my 6 year old Danica darted out of her room and spewed right into the garbage can! I didn't even have time to empty out my own vomit before Dani was adding hers to the wreckage. (Footnote: I got another one for afterward.)
We spent the rest of the night together taking turns throwing up. Suffering brings people closer together. We were barfing buddies. We spent the day on Tuesday hanging out on the couch complaining to each other and watching Nacho Libre, Spirit Of The Marathon, and Elf together.
Not that I would EVER want her to have to suffer like that, but if we had to be sick, at least we could be sick together.