Last night, I tucked in, smooched, and hugged two healthy children. At midnight, I was woken up by Caleb. I had fallen asleep on the couch, and he had his little face right on my ear, whispering, “Mommy! Mommy! Are you in there?”
I saw he was covered in child barf. For some reason, before I was totally awake, I thought he had spilt oatmeal on himself. Within seconds, I realized it wasn’t breakfast; it was the middle of the night, and my child had puked. I changed him, cleaned the mess, put him to bed, and told him to come get me if he started feeling sick again. At three in the morning, I heard him shriek from the bathroom, “Mommy!”
I stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom, and saw he had pooped water…everywhere. In his attempts of cleaning himself, he had managed to get his child poo on the wall, the floor, the back of the toilet, and all over himself. Eww.
I brought him to bed with me after that. This morning, I woke Makayla up for school, and the first thing she said was, “I think..I think I’m…” She gave me “the look,” the look that means, “I’m about to throw up.” I am familiar with said look and said, “OK, it’s OK, run to the bathroom.”
She ran to the bathroom.
“Over the toilet, over the toilet,” I urged.
She put her head over the toilet. And then barfed on my feet and the floor. It never ceases to amaze me how a child can have a perfectly good toilet right under them and miss it completely when throwing up.
I took her temperature, saw she had a fever, and called in to her school. I learned there was a bug going around. Caleb woke up and both children looked at me with glassy, feverish eyes.
“I’m sorry you guys are sick,” I said, “You may watch TV and relax today.”
Caleb went to the window, looked outside at the rain and said, “It’s raining. The moon is pulling all of this water down.”
Yesterday, he asked if the moon makes us cold since the sun makes us hot, and Makayla explained that the moon makes the waves in the ocean.
Makayla was too tired to argue with him, which is astonishing, since she is very big on correcting her brother. I don’t see the point in correcting every single incorrect thing a four year old says.
“Did the moon eat up the sun or sumpthin’?” Caleb asked me.
“No Bubba,” I said, “It’s just cloudy and the clouds are covering up the sun.”
“The sun must have got cold then,” Caleb said.
“What?” I asked.
“He needs the blankets, probly,” Caleb responded.
Oh. Duh mom.
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