Oh man, there is nothing more trying than a sick child. Add to that, a child that can’t quite talk yet.
So, here begins a day — 5 a.m. (because the wifey is working and she says there is a very important early morning meeting — wink wink). Small one is coughing up a storm and with coughing up a storm for this one, comes projectile vomiting. I’m not talking about the stuff that just rolls down the front of their chest and they feel better. I’m talking about the stuff that reminds me of the Exorcist – it becomes a Picasso painting on the wall (and the laundry basket, and the door, and the floor). But it doesn’t stop! How can so much come out of this little body?
But there is my wife – sound asleep.
Little one can’t tell me whats wrong. 7a.m. everyone is awake and trying to get the oldest ready for school (well, summer camp right now). Oldest says it smells (you think?), then whines about her hair and the school uniform. Little one whines because the big one is whining and the fact that she just feels miserable and wants to whine.
Wife happily skips off to work (really, she’s not that bad 🙂 ). Mad rush to school drop and then a quick trip to the clinic.
There is really few things more frustrating than watching your child sick and it’s one thing you can’t do anything about. It’s painful – really painful.
Doctor prescribes and endless array of whatever it is (doctors seem to prescribe based on quantity vs. what will actually work) and we go home. Older one comes home, she is coughing and a fever. I now feel like death is starting to cover my body.
Apparently, I didnt need the little one to tell me how she felt…. because it’s quite evident now that we are all feeling it.
Oh, an in comes the wife happily skipping into the door. Sigh.