Throw Up

Jack threw up for the first time this weekend.

It was about 2:30AM and I heard the pitter-patter of feet from Jack's room to mine. He crawled in on his Mom's side. I tried to coaxing him on my side -- I woke up at 2:00AM for no reason, and was just looking up stuff on the Internet with my tablet, but Jack pretended he didn't hear me. Thirty minutes later there was a vomiting sound.

"Oh, No!!" Jack's Mom exclaimed and got up to take him to the toilet. He heaved a little, but quickly started crying, "What is it??" Jack creaked out, "What's coming from my belly?" It was the first time he'd thrown up since at least he was able to ask a question. He was slightly offended by the bile.

"Oh . . . Jack," Mom said sympathetically, "That's throw up, you're sick."

"Oh," then a pause, "What does throw up start with?" Jack croaked with fatigue and sickiness.

Mom and I both glanced a knowing look, this boy is obsessed with letters. "Throw up starts with a 'T', Jack," Mom replies.

I went and got a bucket from the Simple Human trashcan we have in our bedroom's bathroom and put that by the bed.

"What's that?" Jack asked inquisitively -- now pretty much wide awake.

"That's a bucket, Jack," I answered; and then responded out of reflex, "'Bucket' starts with a 'B.'"

"That's right, dad. Bucket starts with 'B.'"