It started on Monday with a call from daycare saying Nixon threw up. Bill, being the awesome dad that he is, picked up the kids and brought them home only to be awarded with a vomit bath compliments of Nixon.
I walked in the door to Bill and "sickee" on the sofa watching TV while Reaghan goofed off with their toys. Being the concerned mom that I am, I gave Nixon a half a cup of Pedialite to drink and took over the sofa duty from Bill. Bill took one look at the cup and said "Not a good idea."
"Well, he needs fluids or he'll get dehydrated."
"Just warning you...not a good idea."
You guessed it. Five minutes later, just when I started patting myself on the back for assuring my son had a healthy hydration level, he opened up on me. I say 'opened up' because I'm pretty sure that is the term that fireman use when they turn on their hoses - and that is exactly what it looked like. Only smelly...very smelly. Bill snickered.
(To be continued...sick baby interruption)
So lets just say it escalated from there. Reaghan ended up tossing her cookies at daycare on Thursday, so I ended up spending both Tuesday and Friday home with toddlers with sickness from both ends. It was bad...way bad...but several loads of laundry and too exhausted parents later I think that, to quote that little chick from Poltergeist, "This house is clean."
At least I hope so.
Mmmmm puke breath.