"Uh. We don't have a janitor," I said. And I paged for someone, but Ike was out front selling yet another rider (man, that guy is a selling machine!), and the manager was interviewing a potential employee, and the receiving clerk was outside loading fenceposts for a customer.
The mother kept soothing her son as he continued to throw up. It seemed kind of heartless to holler over, "Hey, can you wheel that kid out to the parking lot please?" The best we could do at the minute was hand her a roll of paper towels.