I had one of those late nights a few days back. My son called out at about 2am when the cold air drowses and grabs at your ankles and I went in to find him sitting up near the foot of his bed. I smelled the smell and new exactly what and why: corn chunks with cheese, pinked by dinner-time tomato soup.
It took some time to clean him up. I removed the shorts, shirt, and thin, Skywalker sweater he likes to wear under the sheets. Bits and pieces of corn chunks scattered on the carpet, soft stomach cheese. He was cold and shaking and obviously feeling horrible. I dry washed him best as possible, wrapped him in my big shower towel and lay him down for a moment while I stripped the bed down to the pad and made a nice pile on the floor. Then I gave him a warm shower and soupdown and stored him in my bed and made the trip down to the basement and plopped the wetstuffs on the concrete floor. It took a while to scrub the carpet and freshen things back upstairs. I remade the bed, pulled every thing tight, rearranged the pillows. I lead S back into his room and slipped him into the covers, making sure he was aware of the big blue bowl I’d put on the bookcase.
Downstairs, I unpeeled and rinsed the sheets, towel, shirt, shorts and sweater under hot water. Sure, you have to use your hands a lot. The washer began soon after with a little bleach for good measure. I was back in bed by about 3:30 and then up a few times after that to dump and clean the blue bowl.
It was a wonderful night, really. Because we want to make them comfortable and to express care while they rest and have their eyes closed. They will remember this. As I did. I know exactly what a new bed feels like in those young hours after heaving up dinner.