“What would Batman do?”
Dad to 4 year old before vaccinations.
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Barf trickled down Youngest’s arm at midnight. He looked bewildered and on the verge of tears.
“Honey, what happened? Did something upset your stomach?” Nods yes.
“Is it in your bed, too?” Another nod.
“’C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” I said as I wrestled with my physician urge to “just peak” in his throat to see if he had strep.
All tucked into my bed, he looks fragile, not terribly sick, just the look that needs some Mommy TLC. I headed for his room to see what I needed to clean up. Yup – his bed was out of commission for the rest of the night. He missed his beloved stuffed penguin, Magel, but pretty much covered Hum-Hum, the Webkinz hummingbird.
Was it the chicken pie? No we all ate it and we’re fine. What about the strawberries? They were a day old. No I ate those, too. Maybe it was the sugar on the strawberries.
Husband is doing late night paper work at the office – payroll and insurance corrections that need his undivided attention. I call to divide it anyway.
“Youngest got sick, and I can’t figure out why.”
“Oh. Is he ok?”
“He’s in our bed, and says he doesn’t think he’ll get sick again. His bed’s a mess. I’m getting ready to throw it in the machine.”
“I can do it when I get home.”
“It’s got chunky monkey all over.”
“Chunky Monkey stays chunky monkey & then I just have to clean it out of the washer afterwards. Just leave it and I’ll hose it down outside.”
“Ok.” I say as a wave of giggles hits me. “Thanks.” I’ll never be able to eat that version of Ben & Jerry’s again. Ugh.