Early Sunday morning I woke up to that sound that parents dread. It’s a sound guaranteed to make a mother jump from dead asleep to full motion in .2 seconds. I heard the unmistakable sound of vomiting. Even in my sleepy state I knew which of my children was performing the pukage, because for the mackerdoodle vomiting is a full production both begun and ended with tears and cries of “NO! NO! NO! NO!” In this case I heard only the sound of a gag, followed by soggy heaving sounds. I went immediately to the cheesedoodle and found him up on hands and knees, very neatly directing the puke onto his sheets and not onto himself. I picked him up and washed his face and he snuggled into me and went back to sleep.
Three hours later we made the decision not to take him to church. There are somethings you just don’t want to share. As I was on nursery duty, Jonathan stayed home with the cheesedoodle, who showed no signs at all of intestinal distress for the rest of the day. In fact, other than a much smaller appetite and a slightly diminished activity level, he was largely our cheesedoodle. He had no fever, and he didn’t throw up for the rest of the day. We chalked it up to something he ate and thought no more about it.
Until this morning at 6:45 when he threw up again. This time on me and him.
He still doesn’t have a fever and he still isn’t acting sick. But he must be. I think. I don’t know. I’ll keep you posted. You may want to avoid our house today, just to be on the safe side.