Last night, ten minutes after we put him to sleep, Kiddo#1 came out to us. “Stormy threw up in my bed.”
Trudge into the bedroom; examine the damage; rejoice that the cat didn’t actually hork up anything in the bed, only over the side (it’s a loft bed, too–was she having dreams of sea sickness?) and collect the stuff she managed to hit way down below. She got his school bag and his lunch sack.
We encouraged Kiddo#1 to look on the bright side: this was a great way to end a year, rather than to begin a new one. (Although I pointed out that if he had begun a new year that way, it was pretty much a guarantee that the year wouldn’t get any worse.)
To ring in the New Year, this morning we did laundry. And all is well. Or at least, free of cat-barf.