"What's this???"

Poor Gus. This morning when I went to get him out of his crib his throat was bulging and I could tell he was going to be sick and that he was trying to hold it in. We made it to the toilet and, like a pro, he hit his target. But he is a total novice and did not understand what was happening. He looked in the toilet at what had come out of his mouth and asked in a shaky, scared voice, "What's this?" He was dumbfounded. He has thrown up before , about a year ago, but has no memory of it. He was so sweet and I felt so bad for him. When he has been sick in the past, of course I felt bad for him and worried, but now that he can talk about it, it made how he was feeling more real to me, and me more worried.

We have never seen him so lethargic. After throwing up he just sat in my lap. I had him sit on the floor in my bedroom when I went to hunt for ginger ale and crackers and he curled up into a ball and did not budge. Poor guy. He liked the "ginger juice." He said it was "hot" (his word for spicy) and "fuzzy." It took him about thirty minutes to eat one saltine. Around noon I was changing his diaper and he fell asleep on the changing pad. This is unprecedented for Gus, my mover and shaker.

After a three hour nap he was perkier, though not 100%, and not up for a photo shoot.

Ma! What are you thinking? Enough with the blogging.

For lunch Gus asked for a banana and crackers. That's good sick food, right? What good instinct he has! So I had to come up with another bland meal for dinner. Pancakes? I do not know what to do when I am sick, when Gus is sick I feel panicky. Feeling guilty about never involving him in cooking, and the awful, boring television riddled day we had, I let him pour the ingredients in the bowl and mix. "Nice job," he said. He asked, "Gus crack the egg? Gus hatch the egg?" (he is really into the egg hatching in Richard Scarry right now) but I was not ready for that yet. I cracked it and he whipped it. "Nice job."




Gus seemed pleased with his creation. He ate one pancake and then took a big piece of another and said, "Theo, this is a ball!" and in a caring, and instructional way, threw it at him. Theo seemed to be taking mental notes.

After supper the boys "shared" a little more.


Hey!

Okay, then I'll eat your hand.

Oh, mum? Don't you remember that one of us is sick? You really are lousy at sick. Better quash this.