One of our favorite stopovers en route to and from summer camp
each year is my sister Pat’s place. Pat is an angel who welcomes us with
open arms, gamely feeds us and gives the tribe a room to sleep in even
though -for some unknown reason – just about every summer somebody
gets sick. Last year when we wheeled in to Pat’s and she ran out to meet
us, I opened the van door and yelled, “Open the garbage, quick!”
She knew immediately what to expect and did so just as Charles
stumbled out of the van. And threw up on her foot.
This year we outdid ourselves as four of the kids came down with
the flu bug. Pat was ready for us with a brave smile on her face. And boots.
Once again I opened the window as we wheeled in and called out to open
the garbage, however this time there was a significant improvement –
bagged lunch – I finally managed to catch the little barfer in time to pull
over and give him the bag I now kept handy. He dutifully filled it.
That night I slept on the pull out couch with my sister and we
packed the six kids into her daughter’s room. There was only one bed, so
we tucked three into it, and put the others on the floor in their sleeping
bags. At around 1 a.m. Charles wobbled downstairs and whispered the
bad news: he’d been sick all over the bed. Not wanting to wake my sister, I
groped my way quietly to the kitchen and fumbled through a cupboard
for a bowl and spoon, and trudged up the stairs. To keep from waking the
kids I managed in the dim room to move two of them from the bed, scrape
the mess from the sheets into the bowl, and stepping over many small bodies
on the carpet, put the sheets in the wash. I then returned for the bowl
and made my way to the bathroom toilet to tip the contents, turned on the
light and discovered, to my horror, that in the kitchen I’d grabbed… a
sieve.