Sick. Sick. Sick.

So, at around 11:00 last night, Scott and I had just finished watching a movie, Accepted (pretty good), when we heard this tiny little, "mom" coming from upstairs. I went up and saw Beck standing there covered in sick. He just cried and said, "I made a mess." He had thrown up all over his bed and himself. It was so sad because he just kept saying, "I'm sorry" and "I'll not throw up again." So, anyway, we gave him a bath and put him back in a clean bed only to have it happen again. So, he came to bed with us and a bucket. He was sick until about 2:00 this morning when he finally fell asleep. Now, he seems fine and is upstairs watching Hercules, but you never know...more vomit could be lurking just around the corner.

Scott and I were talking and we have been pretty lucky because Beck is now 3 and this is our first episode of real sick. He's had colds and sniffles before, but never middle of the night, throwing up, disgusting sick. So I guess this was our real initiation into the joys of parenthood. Welcome to the club, right?