When does a parent care least about the nature of a toddler’s gastro-intestinal output?
When her output all night has been in the opposite direction.
*Sigh*. And *Yawn*.
Doctor’s appointment later this morning. Don’t expect to get much work done, one way or another.
UPDATE: Went to the clinic. There’s been a particularly nasty bug like this going on with kids, 3-5 day incubation (which just about matches the time she spent in the nursery with kids on Sunday morning and Monday evening). Mercifully, adults seem to be avoid it, which is good, since 3-5 days from now is the Party and the Game (as if we’d want it even if that wasn’t the case).
So, Pedialyte popsicles it is. And a nap for her right now, and early bed times for both of us tonight.
You’re not a full-fledged parent until you’ve caught puke in your hands. Yessiree. Puke. In your hands.
How about puke in the hair. I got some splash-back while tryig to catch the puke with a towel.
Gee, and people wonder why I’m not rushing to have kids.
Interestingly enough, I was reading an essay by someone about how he had no desire to visit Europe because people kept insisting on telling him about all their travel troubles, delays, losses, inconveniences, and horror stories, and then assured him that he really should go there some time. I think having kids is the same way. Net, there’s no question (in my befuddled mind) that they’re a really swell thing. But it’s a lot more interesting bitching about body fluids being sprayed about than talking at boring length about how cute her smile is, or how she said, “Hi!” to me on the telephone yesterday, and stuff like that.
Well, not so much “interesting” as “horrifically riveting” much in the same manner as a car accident…