Bucket

The intestinal virus that hit the area, hit our daughter first. We thought that she would be immune to it. Alas, she was not.
After bringing her home from grandma’s, we had the opportunity to color, a favorite activities. She immediately was overcome with a need to remove her blue jeans. I did not think very much of it at the time, realizing that she is growing and they were tight. We continued to color her Elmo potty training book. Suddenly, she walked away from it, which again did not alarm me, because like the growth of a two year-old, she also has attention span of one. But the writhing in pain on the ground alarmed me, and I needed to get -
Blah!
Too late. "Little Girl", threw up on the carpet. I tried to grab her and run, but -
Blah!
"Are you okay?"
Yeah.
She is resilient. I went about cleaning up the goo that committed itself to the red carpet, and she went bounding about the house as she often does.
My beloved wife arrived home to find me cleaning the mess.
She was alarmed by this and the fact that it happened two more times before the night was over. I talked to a pediatrician who recommended Gatorade, and that is indeed what she got.
The next day, I went in to work, while my beloved stayed at home to tend to our clingy child. Of course she rebounded with some minor displays of her temporary affliction.
I cooked dinner that evening, and shortly following our dinner, my wife, exposed to our daughter's illness, became quite ill.
Bring on the commode, bring on the bucket.
The house, by this time did not smell very good.
"I will be very surprised if you don't get this."
I am immune.
Insert foot in mouth. Exhale. Repeat.
While at the controls of our business, my eyes became squirrelly and my attitude apathetic, I realized that I may not be staying for any length of time.
I slurred my speech like a drunkard while talking on the phone in the office. I fearfully explained the predicament to my wife that I had to drive home in this condition. I hung up, removed the garbage bag from the bucket and hung my head on the desk over the bucket and -
Blah!
Blah!
Out for a day and half. Sick.