Like I needed another challenge

Oh yeah, William threw up this morning.

Apparently, the universe decided that I needed another challenge or something. I apparently had gotten too adept at managing two young children on one foot, so the universe decide to throw me a curveball. Or maybe a Tim Wakefield knuckleball.

Except that unlike the pitch from the Red Sox pitcher, I had no idea this was coming. William told us this morning that his tummy hurt, but we figured that he just needed to go to the bathroom. I started wondering if something was wrong, though, when he curled up on the sofa and quietly watched "Sid the Science Kid" and "SuperWhy!" without uttering a word, even dozing off a bit. Then, he asked me to turn off the TV, and he rolled over on the couch and went to sleep. Very very uncharacteristic of him, as we all know.

A little later, he woke up, sobbing and feverish. I cowboyed up and dragged myself up the stairs to find the thermometer and some medicine. But while I was doing that, I heard William cry out, then heard a patter of feet, and then...SPLAT. He had made a valiant dash for the bathroom but didn't make it all the way there.

And let me just say, I feel safe in assuming I'm the only person I know who has ever had to clean up a large pool of vomit off the floor while balancing on crutches. Does anyone remember that old kiddie game show "Double Dare"? Well, if you do, consider my little feat an example of a prime Double Dare Physical Challenge. I finally got a crying William to drag a footstool over to the center of the hall and used that to clean up the mess. Then I hobbled over to the kitchen, stuck the can of Lysol into my shirt (which I had tucked in, so it would act as a makeshift pocket) and then Lysoled the heck out of the hallway, bathroom, and anything else in the vicinity.

William was just pitiful, poor thing. You know how he has kind of a sparkle that lights him up? Being sick just extinguishes that light. He goes from being bright and shiny to just wan and gray. It breaks my heart.

Oh, and did I mention the nosebleed he had, too?

A friend came by to drop off a casserole (God bless her) around noon and made a Walgreens run for me. A dose of Tylenol later, and William was feeling much better. In fact, he went from being an inert lump in a pile of towels on the sofa back to a normal little fellow almost before my eyes. Actually he sat next to me, almost a dead weight, for awhile so the medicine could sink in, and we watched a landscaping show on HGTV. Then the Tylenol kicked in, and he popped up and demanded a popsicle, then some crackers and a banana.

His eyes are brighter this evening, although he's not 100 percent yet. But he hasn't thrown up again yet, thank goodness, and he's in good spirits. Hopefully he'll have his sparkle back tomorrow...