Last week Dexter had his two year old checkup and the doctor made the remark about how we have managed to stay out of their office this winter despite all the junk that's been running rampant this season. Shortly after that observation was made, I went and ran my mouth to my coworkers and sitter about this miracle of miracles.
Twelve hours later, Dexter woke up in his own puke. It's probably the saddest and grossest thing all at the same time. Poor kid.
Helplessness really is one of the top adjectives that comes to mind when your kid is sick. For me there is also a level of uncertainty about whether I'm doing the right thing. And I hate uncertainty. So I rely on those who have walked the path before me for reassurance and advice. We are one of the last in our circle of friends to the baby-having game and in times like these, I'm glad we weren't the trailblazers. I'm sure some of it is the blind leading the blind but I'd rather be the latter than the former.
There was a lot of TV watching, cracker nibbling and water guzzling this weekend. Friday and Saturday were the saddest days. He barely said a word and cuddled like crazy which is terribly out of the ordinary for a kid that is go go go these days. Cuddling? Ain't nobody got time for that. (Sorry, I had to.) He even fell asleep on me on the couch. Whaaa?
A popsicle seemed to lift his spirits later that day and by Sunday we were starting to get a glimpse of the regular Dexter. It's been so strange with his alternate sick personality. The house is just so quiet. There wasn't the sound of steps bounding through the rooms or play-by-play announcement ("I hold it!", "I kicked it", "I throw it"). No fake crying. I actually kind of missed the fake crying. Don't tell him I said that though.
Dexter's still not 100% but hopefully we'll knock this bug out this week.