Last night my 3 year old son threw up three times. I don't like dealing with it, but, by the third time, I had become immune to the power of vomit. Just clean it up, comfort the boy, and get everyone back to bed. So when my son started crying in his room an hour after bedtime, I was mentally prepared for the usual drill. Except when I opened the door and turned on the lights, it wasn't vomit. My poor son was covered nearly head to toe in his own blood. Carrie immediately popped into my mind. I was not at all prepared for this horror and definitely got lightheaded. My husband usually handles the blood, but he is working overnight. I had to call my mom and have her talk me through breathing while I assessed the situation. It turns out that he had a very big nose bleed and in the dark he had smeared it everywhere. I sucked it up and got him cleaned up, back in bed, and dealt with the laundry. But holy hell, do I wish it had been vomit. via /r/Parenting https://ift.tt/2Oqxp7q
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