“Go to bathroom.” That’s what Pea said just before it happened.
This story begins as Pea and I are laying in her bed last night, trying to go to sleep. For all intents and purposes, this was a fairly standard evening. Except for the fact that we were going to bed a little later than usual, everything seemed as it always does.
Oh, I should mention that Pea has a cold. A nasty one that is making her nighttime breathing a little laborious. Ok, that’s an understatement. She’s so stuffy that she sounds like Jabba the Hut when she’s laying on her back.
Turns out this stuffiness plays a key role in the rest of this story.
Just before it happened, Pea chose extremely specific words. She didn’t say “Tata,” which means potty in our world, or even “Big Bed,” which she often says when she is goofing off and trying to extend her awake time.
She most certainly didn’t say “More milk,” another favourite evening extension tool of hers.
She said “Go to bathroom.”
Good thing I listened.
Within a minute of arriving in the bathroom, Pea was filling it with puke. In the sink, on the floor, on my clothing, on hers, and (worst of all) on the shag bathroom rug.
Now, this where my story turns from gross to awe-inspiring.
To my knowledge, this is only the second time Pea has thrown-up in her short existence. The first time was over a year ago, before Pea could sit up properly or speak.
I say this to illustrate that Pea is not a veteran vomiter. She is not a child with a finicky stomach who would recognize the pre-T/U sensation and understand from experience that Daddy wants her to throw-up far from installed carpeting and bedding.
And yet, she knew. She gagged a little, recognized what was coming next, and asked to be taken to the safest place in the house for vomiting to occur.
Considerate. Compassionate. Thoughtful. Empathetic. These are all words I would use to describe my little girl. Even when she is feeling sick, she still takes the time to consider the effect of her actions on others.
(Now if I could just get her to have a little empathy when she’s kicking me in the neck in the middle of the night. But that’s a different post.)
After it happened and I got her cleaned up, we went back to bed and snuggled close. She didn’t cry or whine like her Daddy still does when he’s feeling sick. She simply nestled herself into my body and fell asleep.
Even when her breath smells like turned milk and cheese, I love this little girl beyond words.
PS – I mentioned Pea’s stuffiness was a key part of the story. It appears she had a rather large bit of phlegm stuck in her throat, which initiated her gag reflex, and Bob’s your uncle.