Just When you thought it was safe to go in the toilet...

Well, I spoke too soon...
The upside of the vomiting was that noone apart from no 4 was well enough to attend their various activities, leaving me and Spouse a little time for our own pursuits. He even managed to do some Christmas shopping. Wonders will never cease.
In the afternoon nos 1 &2 had to visit the opticians, and as they felt so much better, we were able to accomplish this with ease. En route we bumped into their best friends, one of whom had also had the tummy bug. Her mother told me it was every half an hour for a whole night. Cripes! I got off lightly. Imagine that times four...
However as Saturday wore on, I was aware of a rather nauseuous sensation growing in my gullet. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away. So by the time the sprogs were ready for bed, so was I. The best thing, I thought was to sleep it off. At least everyone else was over the tummy bug.
Around midnight, I was awoken from a rather dodgy sleep (the grumbling in my tummy getting louder and louder as the night progressed - while my will NOT to be ill was working overtime to prevent the inevitable), by a yell outside my bedroom.
"I tried to get the toilet," said no2 before promptly throwing up on the landing floor.
I find this whole business quite the worst thing about parenthood. But with a wobbly stomach all of my own, it's the last thing I needed. It was time to call the cavalry, who was sitting downstairs with a pint of beer and a crap DVD. He manfully came up and did noble Clear Up duty, while his feeble wife leant against the wall, before nearly keeling over herself.
I had to sit on the floor with my head in my knees for a bit, still trying to control my relactricant insides But helas, vomit will out, and so I found myself head over the basin, while Spouse liberally applied disinfectant to the whole house.
No 2 who had got rid of all that was troubling her, found the whole thing very amusing. Yes, ha, bloody ha. And settled happily down into a makeshift bed on a mattress in the spare room. As she sleeps on the top bunk, she has been known to liberally cover the walls, floor and underbed drawers before now, so a mattress on the floor seemed infinitely safer.
I meanwhile retired to my bed, from whence I emerged feeling distinctly weak and feeble at around 11 the next day.
I'm still not feeling quite right now. No2 is still off with a tummy ache. And Spouse has also succumbed.
Never mind bird flu. We need a cold snap to stop this bug in its tracks. Otherwise I forsee this merry-go-round of nauseating misery lasting till Christmas...
I'm just waiting for no 4 to start it all off again...