the best story in my life

It was eleven thirty on a Sunday night.  Brian and I were downstairs when we hear a thud, thud, thud upstairs- a tell-tale sign of Ellery.  We call her heavy-foot because, well, she's heavy footed.  She appears on the stairs and tells us she has a tummy ache.  This happens to Elle a lot when she has to go number two.  But not at night time.  We help her to the bathroom, where sure enough, she delivers.  Then it's back up to bed for all of us.

Half an hour goes by.  Brian and I are lying in bed talking.  We hear a whimpering out in the hallway.  It's Ellery. Brian looks at me and says, "I bet she's going to throw up!" as he runs out into the hall.

He sees Ellery curled in a little ball at the top of the stairs.  She is whimpering.  She's also drooling.  Brian grabs her around the waist.  She coughs.  He starts running to the bathroom, just a few feet away.

He makes it!  I'm lying in bed listening to the whole thing.  Then I hear it.  The sound of a three year old vomiting.  Instantly I hear something else.  A HUGE thud.  A crash.  A bang.  Whatever you want to call it, it was loud.  It sounded painful.  Then crying.

I hop out of bed.  I knew something horrible had happened.  I peer into the bathroom and there's Brian. . .lying flat on his back.  Vomit is everywhere.  I really can't emphasize that enough.  Vomit is EVERYWHERE!  Ellery is huddled in a ball again, crying, draped over Brian's leg.

The noise was so loud that I ask him if he's okay.  Did he break anything?  Any cuts?  That was so loud- are you sure you're not hurt?  Luckily he's fine.

I begin to laugh.  Hysterically.  He was running so fast to get to the toilet that when Ellery thew up it hit the bathroom floor and his feet kept going.  He slipped in it.  He fell in it.  He was laying in it.

Brian's not sure whether he thought it was funny.  But then he looked up at me, hysterically laughing, remember, and he couldn't hold it in.

Ellery was crying.  Not because she had just thrown up.  Not because her daddy had just fallen while carrying her.  Not because she was covered in the most putrid-smelling vomit any of us has ever smelled.

"Ariel is messy," she wailed.  Ariel, clutched, as always, in her little hand (yes, even in her sleep, even when she's sick).

I help Brian up.  He obviously needs to clean up.  And Ellery.  And the bathroom.  And Ariel.

I take the bathroom.  The smell, oh the smell.  On every surface.  I had to go out in the hall to take breaths.

Brian, Elle and Ariel get washed off and pretty soon Elle is snug in bed and Brian and I are laying in ours.

And I can't sleep.  Because every time I close my eyes I start laughing.  Like really, really laughing.

I'm so fortunate.  I get to relive that night for the rest of my life.  And just keep laughing. . .