‘Twas the night before ministry, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The dogs were barking, singing their lullaby
when all of the sudden I hear a deep cry.
Kayla asks for Taylor’s water bottle,
apparently puke is coming out of her full throttle.
I jumped from my bed ready to save the day
and begin to pray.
We went out to the front yard to avoid the squatty,
oh how badly she wished for her home potty.
I rubbed her back
while she continued to yak.
We moved inside
so she no longer would be puking curbside.
Into the bathroom she went,
I plugged my nose to avoid your scent.
I ran downstairs to get her sleeping pad,
thinking wow, I’d be such a great dad!
I hear another cry from downstairs-
oh no, they are puking in pairs!
Tate is out for the count,
I didn’t even know one could puke such an amount.
Now in the living room next to the toilet 3 beds lay
for the night here I will stay.
Tonight was the wrong night to take a sleeping pill
this battle is going to be uphill.
I stay awake all night
repeating to Taylor and Tate that’ll be alright.
From up above
we hear more puking, sort of.
It sounds like Satan’s violent cry,
apparently Andy is Taylor and Tate’s new ally.
The next day at the cabin workers’ house I feel like a dead-man walking
is that you, the stomach flu, knocking?
On the bus ride back
I pray that you won’t attack.
I try to keep everything inside,
oh stomach, please abide!
My time has finally come,
and I feel quite the bum.
On the curb I sit,
feeling like absolute sh*t.
I puke into a bag,
this time it’s Taylor’s turn to rub my back and try not to gag.
The four of us lie on the floor
our bodies feeling oh so sore.
We spend our night feeling rather sorry
but thankful we aren’t (quite yet) on an African Safari.
We dream of a salty cracker
to combat our attacker-
Sprite will have to do,
one day we will be able to hold down what we chew.
This is an ode to the stomach flu,
oh, how we don’t love you.
