Saturday, February 24, 2007
Poor little Ree didn't seem very happy this morning. She put on her game face though and played like a champ at her Gymboree class. She was the first one to try out each new game and smiled and waved at her friends. Now that I think about it though, her beautiful bottom lip was kind of quivery during the parachute ride, which just isn't like her. Anyhow, by lunchtime she was full-blown upset. She didn't eat a thing and finally ended up sitting on TubaDad's lap with big tears sliding down her cheeks. We didn't know what was wrong but got out of there as fast as we could and headed for home. And the poor sweetie lasted until just inside the house and then threw up all over the place. It was awful! We were frozen in place and didn't know what to do first -- pick Ree up and cuddle her and her hideous clothing, or wait to see if she was done yet, or get Ro out of there before she made the situation any worse, or try to clean up the floor, or grab a bucket, or try to clean up Ree -- oh man what a mess. We finally took the divide-and-conquer route and TubaDad dealt with the floor cleanup and Ro distraction and I took little Ree upstairs, stripped us both down and popped her in a nice warm bath. By the way, if any of your kids are wearing those stylish Croc sandals and get sick on their shoes you don't even want to know what their socks look like. It's 2pm now, Ree fell asleep in TubaDad's arms after crying for about a half an hour and Ro still doesn't want to nap so she gets to play for a little longer while Ree gets some rare undisturbed rest. Poor little sweetie. Please think good thoughts for her. Oh, and please let me know what kind of thermometer you use and whether you like it or not. (No need to even discuss rectal ones, because it Isn't Going To Happen in this house.) We started with one of those underarm ones, but couldn't get the kids to hold still long enough for it to work. Now we have a digital ear thermo, but I swear I get a different temperature every single time, even if I take them only seconds apart. Sigh... PS: Ahhhh the beauty of Crocs... No hand-cleaning (or even touching) required. Just opened up a garbage bag, held my breath, gathered up the whole toxic pile of clothes and shoes, and threw it directly in the washing machine.