I had just gotten comfortable in my bed last night a few minutes before eleven o’clock when Lydia came into the room. She had complained earlier about having an upset stomach, but I put it down to all the junk food she’d eaten when she and Olof had gone to town to see Robots at the movie theater. Turns out it was more than that, as I discovered seconds after she moaned, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

I admit that my first thought upon hearing the splash that only vomit can make was You couldn’t have stopped off at the bathroom on your way from your bedroom to mine?, but since that’s not a good-mother thing to say, especially to a sick eight-year-old, I kept it to myself. I’m pretty sure I did sigh, however, as I dragged myself out of bed and set about cleaning up the mess and tending to Lydia. After she was tidied up and settled back in bed, I mopped our bedroom floor and crawled back into bed, a few minutes past midnight.

I’d like to report that the night went well from there, but it was a rough one for all of us. Olof was up working until five-thirty in the morning, which was probably just as well considering that Tage didn’t go to sleep until some time after four (who knows why). Lydia was up and down for several hours and finally gave up sleeping entirely around eight o’clock, at which point she started waking me up at regular intervals to ask when I was going to get up. Not the most restful night, I’m afraid. I’m so hoping that tonight will be better.