Apparently, all I had to do was ask. Yesterday was mostly dry and there was a brief sun-sighting. My God, people, I actually had to squint at one point. After school, we were able to stay and play at the playground for an entire hour. The kids got to use their large muscles and the cold air scrubbed our lungs clean. It felt good. But I should've known it was too good to be true. Just before dinner, Juliana started crying that her stomach hurt. Forty-five minutes later, she barfed on the couch. (Let me make two observations: 1. Leather furniture is a good thing and 2. Partly digested turkey bacon is easily recognizable.) While she used to be an Olympic caliber puker, I don't think she's thrown up since we moved here 3 1/2 years ago. And as you may remember, David was barf-free until he was 8, so this was my first experience with a 5 year old with the stomach flu. When her stomach started hurting, I'd set up a bucket on a towel next to the couch. Not wanting to defile it, she sat up and barfed in her own lap. (Did I mention leather furnitue = good?) So, at bedtime, I set the bucket up again on the floor next to her bed, hoping it's presence would act as a talisman if nothing else. Around 11:30 last night, I heard that unmistakable sound and got out of bed to find her standing in the hall, crying that she'd thrown up again. I shepherded her into the bathroom and asked where she'd done it. Her response? The bucket. I raced back to her room to verify and it was true! She'd woken up from a dead sleep, leaned over and puked right into the bucket. I tell you, I was practically giddy. Everything was cleaned up and she was back in bed within 10 minutes.
She slept the rest of the night and seems a little better today. After a long dry spell (pun fully intended) we've now had three members of the family vomit in the last three months. I think if we can get Ritu to puke in February, we win Barfing Bingo.