The kid was adamant about eating. So I assessed the situation - no fever, happy child, wanting to eat. OK, I fed him toast and water. He was happy, the day went great, he ate every meal, and never showed one sign of sickness. I wrote off the experience as a fluke puke.
I WAS WRONG.
Saturday morning I felt funny. I never actually got SICK, but I just felt less than par. One time that morning my four year old told me his tummy hurt. I didn't think much of it, but then he didn't eat any lunch. Uh oh. He tossed and turned and moaned now and then through his nap, and I could almost guess what was coming. I prepared with blankets covering things and big throw up bowls ready. By the end of his nap, he had a fever of 101, and sure enough, within an hour, I had to turn into a nurse (NOT my gift!) and a janitor.
Thirty minutes later, my husband returned home from helping a friend all day. We quickly realized he also had a fever, and during the night things went south for him.
I hate the flu, I mean really HATE the flu. But, there are moments in my life when I wonder which is worse - being the one with the flu...or being the only one left to deal with it all.
Thankfully, this has been fairly short-lived. We are still digging out of the wreckage as you can see. I'm sure you won't overlook the upside down throw up bowl and the missing couch cushion (missed the bowl...gross). Why I post pictures like this I have no idea - must be serious lack of sleep.
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