We have the lumpuckerroo (a word of my dad's meaning "unexplained and possibly fake illness" - someone would call in sick where my dad worked and his supervisor would say to the calling-in-sick employee, "Whatcha got, the lumpuckerroo?").
Except our illness isn't fake - unless you can fake vomiting six times in twelve hours - and I can explain it pretty well. A kid looks forlorn, he complains maybe once about his tummy hurting - and then, POW. We're on Child #2 now. Harrison was really great about getting himself into the bathroom after the 2nd or 3rd session, but now Roz has just come forth with the sickness. Yikes. At least she wears diapers.
On the bright side... I have a nice washer and dryer, and I just bought new laundry detergent and a gallon of vinegar today. So I'm all set for barf. Isn't that nice?
And now I have a big headache. Harrison and Rosalind haven't had headaches with their stuff, so I'm probably not about to be sick myself. I hope. I really, really hope.
UPDATE: No more pukers (knock on wood). I slept out in the living room with Roz so she could sleep on the sheet-and-blanket-covered loveseat and puke at will.