We hear her cough and cry at one a.m.
Daddy picks her up, covered in soupy sick. She’s hot and screaming.
It’s all over her, from breakfast Cheerios, to teatime Bolognaise.
He bathes her while I strip her sheet, wipe sick off the cot and the floor.
At two a.m. she’s sick again. All over our bed. There are no clean sheets.
He drops off on the bare mattress, under a sleeping bag.
I make a nest for us on the sofa, and sleep half-sitting, half-lying next to her
Before she starts sucking her thumb, she giggles and says
You’re welcome, darling.