I never used to believe those people who showed pictures of their kids, asleep at the dinner table -- mostly because my own are semi-allergic for sleep and fight any and all urges to fall into it.

Until tonight. I asked Mirthe a question about her day and when I turned to ask Anna the same, boom, she was out. We kept trying to wake her up, but she wasn't having it. She felt sick and her head hurt and she was just going to close her eyes and think about it. Finally Mirthe ate Anna's sandwich and we decided to call it a night and head upstairs. It was 17.30 -- thank God Mirthe can't read a clock -- yet.

Once upstairs, we struggled to get Anna out of her clothes and then out of the blue she threw up. For the first time, ever, in her short life. Five times, actually. It was all over the bathroom (man I'm glad I didn't clean the bathroom this afternoon) and Mirthe burst into tears and panicked, because throwing up is a very traumatic thing for her. (And because she had said at the dinner tabe that she didn't believe Anna was really sick, just fake sick, that it was her fault that Anna threw up. I honestly don't know where she gets these things, but they worry me a little.) So I sent her downstairs for a glass so that Anna could rinse her mouth out and I cleaned up most of the gunk on the floor. Got Anna into her pjs and then she took about 47 tiny sips of water and spit each one out. She said she felt better and crawled into bed and promptly fell asleep. We woke her up one last time to show her where the upchuck bucket was, next to her bed, and she nodded and boom, she was out again.

I talked with Mirthe for a while about being sick and how you have to use the bucket etc etc etc (Mirthe is all about the technical stuff, the accessories, in situations) I told her how proud I was of her, for helping with Anna and how she was really sweet for her little sister. She beamed. And then she asked if Anna threw up again, if Mirthe could sleep in my bed tonight, 'cause that throwup really stinks.

I said I'd think about it :-)

Even with cleaning the bathroom and doing the first load of throwup laundry (I hate rinsing that stuff out in the bath, how do you all deal with that?) I was still downstairs at 18.35, which has, I'm pretty sure, never happened in my parenting career.

I don't know what to do with myself, I have all this time. I think I'll head in early, just in case the bug comes back and I have to change beds in the middle of the night.


And here they are in April 2005: