Gratitude

Last night was a barrel of fun.  Josh got up thirty-seventy-million times because he was having nightmares from the movie we watched in the evening.  (Who knew "ParaNorman" would have been so terrifying to a 6 year old?  Not I.) 

Spencer also decided to get in on the action by throwing up all over his bedroom floor.  It took me well over an hour to clean it all up and get rid of the smell.  Erlack.  Seriously, in the 9+ years of being a mom, that was one of the grosser throw-up messes I've ever come across.  (Not as gross as the time Spencer threw up on Josh from the top bunk - that one will always win any grossness award.)  One would think a nine year old would have the wherewithal to throw up in the toilet that is right across from his bedroom.  But one would be wrong.

It took me quite a while to calm down and fall asleep last night.  Needless to say, I'm a bit worn out this morning.  Lance has to be in nursery and I don't have to teach YW today, so I'm the obvious choice to stay home with Typhoid Spencer.  But I almost let him to his own devices after the conversation we had this morning.

Spencer: Do I need to get dressed for church?

Me: What?!  No - you're sick.

Spencer (relieved): Oh, good.  Who's going to stay home with me?

Me: I am.

Spencer:  Hooray!  I'm glad!  That will be fun!

Me (feeling loved and appreciated): That's nice of you.

Spencer: That's fun!  But that's sad for nursery because one of their workers will be gone.

Me (not feeling the love anymore): Spencer.  You didn't listen to me.  I am staying home with you, not Daddy.

Spencer (obnoxious, whiny voice): Awwwwwwwwwww....!

Me: Go away.

Punk kid.