There's vomit on the keyboard

I had big plans for the labor day weekend. I first planned to take a little camping trip upstate to relax and unwind but first the hurricane nixed those plans and then my family used my free weekend to request my help with moving. They promised it would only be one day and then I could have the rest of the weekend to myself. So I suffered the loss of my Saturday (prepacking) and Sunday (actual moving day) with hopes of seeing the West Indian Day parade on Monday with my son. But on Monday morning my son woke up with a fever and refused to get out of bed.

What followed was not a day of dancing and singing in the parade as I planned. Instead I was juggling constantly checking his temperature while begging him to drink something. I had given up on getting him to actually eat a few days back. While he may go a day or two without eating, having him stay hydrated with liquids was a must. So I checked and begged. Sip, sip

He slept for most of the day but did wake now and then for a cuddle. I worried that the fever would turn into something serious but so far it was low grade with no other serious effects. Around 4pm he woke up and seemed better so I tried giving him something to eat and drink. He nibbled, drank and sat down in front of the pc to watch cartoons.

I took a few moments to try and work on a project a few feet away. As I furious typed away I heard the wet sound of something dripping. As I looked over to where my son was sitting I saw a large pile of slimy vomit spreading from the keyboard and dripping down from the table. Plop, plop.

I checked my son to make sure he was ok. No crying or mention of the vomit. He just looked at me and then looked at the mess that was his lunch. *sigh* After a very through cleanup, I changed his clothing, restarted the cartoons and went to finish what I was working on.

A few minutes later, my son was ready for another around of napping and I was ready to join him. Our labor day didn't turn out as we planned but in the long run it was for the best. I heard later that night that there was not one but two shooting incidents during the parade. I can't imagine what it would have been like to be running with my son as bullets flew around me. As I compare what my day was versus what it could have been, I decide that I can live with vomit on the key board and my son laying peacefully next to me.

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