Poor Kai has been sick all weekend. I got a call at work early Saturday morning, like 3am early, from Josh who much to his chagrin was stripping, of course, OUR bed (since that is where Kai usually finds himself at some point during the night). Poor Dad had to give a 3am bath, do 3am laundry, clean up 3am puke, and move two kids (Nathan had come for a visit too) at 3am back to their beds.
Unfortunately for Kai, as the first "P" (puking) moved down his GI tract he was maligned with the second "P" (the poops). Kai, the ever vocal, spent the majority of the day yesterday rolling around on the floor moaning, "The pain! The pain!" and "Why can't I just be a normal kid?". Well, at the very least it bought him two days of unending Spongebob and Phineas and Ferb episodes.
I am happy to report that today he is feeling much better. We have been Double "P" free going on 16 hours. In fact, he's feeling so much better, he's submitted a request with the house chef for a Taco Time soft taco for lunch. Somewhat leery about the return, once again of the Double "P's", I said, "Kai, are you sure you're feeling up to that." To which he replied, "Yeah mom! I'm starving. And anyways, if I have to throw up, I could just go to the bathroom. What could go wrong?". Infallible reasoning. From a five year old. But my strong desire to NOT have to clean up Taco Time puke outweighed the tugging at my heart strings to feed my little boy whatever his little stomach craved. Toast and applesauce it is, for at least one more day.
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