Well, it’s finally hit us. The tummy bug that has been flying around everywhere has officially barged into our home now, too.
I woke up this morning to a little man who was lying on the living room floor looking a little pale. I thought maybe… MAYBE, it was just that he was still waking up, but inwardly, I could sense something was amiss. Nevertheless, I took my best shot at denial right up until I asked him if he’d like some breakfast and his response was “yes, but PLEASE don’t make me any eggs”.
~head hung in defeat~
Just to give you a point of reference, this particular child specifically asking to hold the eggs is about like me requesting to refrain from making the morning coffee. I knew it was coming, and about 20 minutes later… well… you know.
So now, Squeeze is all set up in Mama’s bed (the official site for a Westover quarantine because it has a designated bathroom) where he is just waiting patiently for it all to go away.
Bless my sweet baby’s heart. I hate it when my kids are sick…
I’m of the mindset that if we are all going to get it, I’d rather everyone go down at once (save one adult for a day or two, though) in order to just get it over with. That way, we stand less of a chance of reinfection. That’s my logical wish list, anyway. I hate the thought of this dragging out for a week or more just because we have a big trip to PA coming up. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that our uninvited, unwelcomed guest will leave precisely when he sees fit to be through with us, and that won’t be on my timetable.
Stay well, friends…