Last night was not pretty.
Starting at about 3:30 am Rebecca, Nate, and Jake suffered what could only be food poisoning. Nate staggered into my room sick and miserably announcing that he had thrown up in the hallway. As he stood there all sad and forlorn I told him to go back to bed. I was tired, my bed was all cozy and at 3:30 am I am not the most charitable of people. At 1:30, sure I'll be the sweetest mom ever, but at 3:30am I have been yanked from the depths of sleep and I am barely coherent.
Two hours later Jake showed up. At that point I threw in the towel and crawled out of bed. As I cleaned and consoled three very distressed children I desperately tried to think what could have precipitated this horror. Max, Larry and myself were unaffected, which ruled out dinner. Then I remembered the cut fruit I had picked up at the store the other day. Nate had eaten a ton of watermelon and so had Jake and Rebecca. Max had only nibbled on a piece and then (prudently it turned out) decided he did not want it. I hadn't had any and Larry had only one piece of cantaloupe. The first chance I got I trashed the rest.
Max was fine and merrily went off to school while the rest stayed home. Rebecca was the most sensible and went straight back to bed after a warm bath. The other two flopped about, too ill to do anything except declare their boredom. Repeatedly. With the all too frequent moans of agony from Nate.
They seemed to be a smidgen better. They haven't been sick since the wee hours and I hope at least some of them go back to school tomorrow. Meanwhile Max is just flabbergasted that he is the only healthy kid in the house.