My four year old caught an extreme form of the stomach flu. At least I hope that’s what it is. I have no reason to suspect something else, but I’m a mother. I hope for the best and worry about the worst.
We had to go to the emergency room and my little one was hooked up to an IV that gave him fluids and medication. It was an unpleasant, deja vu type of experience.
Yes, I know you can’t see his face, but for now, that’s how my husband and I prefer it. He’s still too young for fan clubs. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for him to be able to spell his name before he can start giving out autographs.
He’ll be on strong anti nausea medicine for the next two days at least. I don’t like the idea, especially since those meds often come with side effects worse than the symptoms they are supposed to treat. But it’s better than the other option of having him puke to the point of dehydration.
One good thing about yesterday was that I got to see the sun after what seems like ages. It’s winter in Chicago, after all. It was heartening to see the sky go from inky black to light gray to light blue, with fat white clouds and dapples of pale, weak sunlight.
Winter is fugly, but the rising dawn and early morning of any season are beautiful. Almost makes me wish I was a morning person.
Plans for the a winter vacation have been cancelled and replaced with stay at home and keep an eye on sick child, along with pray older child doesn’t catch it. Yay us.