Sunday afternoon was great. The warm weather was a much-welcomed chance to be outside. Kris and I worked in the yard and Ben played. Cash hung out with Ron and Jan in the afternoon and we had a big ol’ Catoe clan dinner planned for the evening because Mike, Raygen and Mathias were in town.
Kris was prepping potatoes and I was chatting with Raygen when we heard crying. Was it Mathias waking up in the pack-n-play? No, that’s coming from upstairs where Ben was napping in mommy and daddy’s room.
I ran upstairs to find him and heard him in the nursery. Had he climbed in the crib and gotten stuck?
Ben was crying hard, wedged in the corner behind the crib, amidst the boxes of clothes Cash has outgrown. He reached for me and when he did, I caught a whiff of bile.
I pulled off his hoodie and yelled for Kris. When he came upstairs, I told him there would be vomit somewhere.
Kris found two pink piles of it in our bed and on our floor. Pink from the cranberry juice Ben likes so well. Chunks of yellow from a slice of Kraft cheese. So very gross.
He had been fine. What happened?
After four bouts of puke, it seemed over. We pondered.
“Well,” I told Kris. “He did eat some pond scum.”
While playing outside, Ben picked up some rocks in standing green water. He licked the slime off his fingers.
I was hoping it was pond scum and not a virus. I stayed home with him on Monday because there is a 24-hour puke-free rule at the daycare and Kris was taking Cash for his 6-month visit. Ben was fine all day. Laughing, playing, eating Salt & Vinegar Pringles.
And then, an hour after he fell asleep between us, pukesville.
There was more of it this morning, but he has now been vomit-free all day. Here’s hoping it stays away this time.
Hmm, let me balance that gross Ben story with a nicer one.
Last week, he asked me to tell him a story about mermaids. (He’d been watching a Dora episode with mermaids earlier.)
“Once upon a time, there was a mermaid,” I began.
“No,” he corrected. “A princess.”
Fine. “There was a princess, named… Ben, what do you want to name the princess?”
“Princess.”
Okay. “There was a princess named, uh, Aurora, and she lived in the woods, because…”
“And she takes care of animals.”
“Yes. She takes care of…”
“Wolves. And lizards and cows and horses,” he said.
“But not bears,” I interjected.
“Bears are scary.”
“What else does she take care of?” I asked.
“Butterflies and owls and moose…”
“Okay, butterflies and owls and mooses…”
“No, moose. And beavers! And blue birds!”
Oh, Ben.
