Guts

Monday morning at 1 AM was altogether unpleasant for the Floyd family. After a fitful few hours of sleep, Davis woke up again, crying, this time standing up in his crib saying, “Up, up, up.”

Tracy went in to check on him and decided to take him in the kitchen to get a drink of water. I laid in bed listening and next heard loud splattering sounds. I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen to find Davis and Tracy surrounded by Davis’s vomit.

Davis was distraught…Tracy was frozen…I was in a frenzy, trying to figure out how I was going to help them and clean up the adult-like vomit that was covering half of my kitchen floor. As I am rolling off countless paper towels, Davis stares at the disaster on the tiles and starts saying, “Guts…guts…guts….”

Now, I am pretty sure he wasn’t really saying guts. I think maybe he was trying to say gross, a word I have said to him many times. However, what an appropriate reaction for the situation.

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