Turns out, daycare isn't the best place to take a child when you want him/her to remain healthy. Go figure, huh? I know that, in the long run, our Little Dictator will have the immunities of a staunchly hardcore Tea Party supporter (i.e. nothing will ever get to (or through to) him) but, until that magical day, our son seems to attract illness like Hot Topic attracts the perpetually emo. Ok, so it isn't as bad now as it was when he first started going to daycare - ear infections every month, diaper rashes that looked like he sat in red paint - but I still feel for the little guy.
Right now, he's just starting to get over a nice round o' Puke & Poop. This current ailment has him pooping what seems to be yellow, watered-down cottage cheese that smells even better than that sounds... and puking when he eats half of his normal amount of anything.
A handful of pretzel Goldfish crackers? Just fine.
Add a half-cup of applesauce? Mount Vesuvius has NOTHING on my son.
It's rare when I can stay home with the little Squish-nugget, but I was able to do so yesterday and take him to the doctor for a quick, panicked, "WHYYYYYY?????"-fest. An hour and a half later, we walked out with an anit-nausea prescription and advice to keep him away from all dairy except for hard, yellow cheeses.
Um... his favorite food is yogurt, and he has been asking for it non-stop. This will not bode well, Doc.
The real kicker? Night time.
When sick, Bruiser doesn't like to be in his crib... far from his dear Mommy and Daddy, no... he likes to be **thisclose** and snuggle, cuddle, and flip-flop the night away. Unfortunately (for said Mommy and Daddy), he has now added a strange whine-cry-sniffle combination (hereunto known as "The Whicryniffle") to his flipping and flopping. Two nights ago, I believe this lasted for roughly two hours. Two hours in which I repeatedly tried contacting any deity that was awake at the un-deity-like-hour of 2:00 a.m. and promise them eternal fealty if they would just calm down my poor son.
If this is a foreshadow of what he'll be like when he gets sick as an adult, well, may God have mercy on his poor wife's soul. I'll be sure to bring her ear plugs.
The real kicker? Night time.
When sick, Bruiser doesn't like to be in his crib... far from his dear Mommy and Daddy, no... he likes to be **thisclose** and snuggle, cuddle, and flip-flop the night away. Unfortunately (for said Mommy and Daddy), he has now added a strange whine-cry-sniffle combination (hereunto known as "The Whicryniffle") to his flipping and flopping. Two nights ago, I believe this lasted for roughly two hours. Two hours in which I repeatedly tried contacting any deity that was awake at the un-deity-like-hour of 2:00 a.m. and promise them eternal fealty if they would just calm down my poor son.
If this is a foreshadow of what he'll be like when he gets sick as an adult, well, may God have mercy on his poor wife's soul. I'll be sure to bring her ear plugs.
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