Disclaimer: This entry is not for the weak of stomach.
Thursday night Dax was having trouble going to sleep. "Trouble" here means that he was screaming his head off and writhing around as if we'd taken a branding iron to him. And as I was wrestling with him in his bed, Miss Cindi called from school.
"Is Dax.....ok? Is he.....throwing up or anything?"
She continued to tell me about the three children who had already reported in sick as I reassured her that Dax was fine. Sure, he was a bit "not himself" but he hadn't thrown up.
Not until I hung up the phone, that is.
That's right. I hung up the phone and moments later my son unleashed a fury of gastrointestinal distress all over his bed, blankets, pillow, books, toys and ME.
Ick.
He's fine now. In fact, he was only down for the count for that one evening and by Friday it was difficult to keep him resting quietly. When we called Cindi to give her an update we found that the majority of the kids had brought home this virus. The poor woman only had three kids at school that day so she was making the most of her time bleaching every single toy in the house. I could tell she felt terribly about the whole ordeal but it's really not her fault. You get a virus and that many small children in one place and you are sure to get a complete barfarama.
There is just one thing I'm left wondering about, though. How does someone that small produce that much sick in the first place?
*shudder*
Posted by michelle at July 1, 2007 04:08 PM