To be a kid again . . .

By last night, Jack kept down a half piece of toast, a few slices of banana and a dish of applesauce. This morning, he was back to normal.

Now, it's my turn to be curled up in bed with the blue bucket. If only Jack would return the favor and sit in bed with me stroking my hair and patting my back when I throw up.

But he does stand outside the bathroom door and say "Mommy go?" and "Feel okay?" and "Dink water?" Which is just as helpful.