At about 2:00 today, I got a phone call from the director of the day care. She informed me that Little Red had vomited two times and was feeling pretty crummy. Clearly, he needed to be picked up. The Runner was at that point having a meeting with a client--in Dresden. I was sitting in my office, with only my bike to serve as transportation. So, I packed up in haste, rode home as fast as I could on my retro bike, hopped in the car, drove to the day care, and expectantly entered Little Red's classroom. In response to some quizzical looks, I said I was there to pick Little Red up because he had vomited twice. More quizzical looks. I see Little Red walking toward me with his face all red from crying, and I bend down to hug him, upon which Miss A, his teacher, says he was just mad because she'd told him to go to the potty before he went outside to the playground.
And the vomiting? That was one of Little Red's classmates, Thomas. The phone call was a false alarm. So there I was, at 2:30, with Little Red feeling perfectly fine (if a little sad). I had to bring him home after going in there and hugging him, though. So we came home and had snack and a Popsicle and played Angry Birds on the iPod.
The folks at the day care were most embarrassed. We assured them that it was no big deal. I'm just glad he didn't bring home some vomiting bug. Er, so far.
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