Wow, is the stomach flu not fun. Sure, it sucks when you have it, but being a spectator is nothing to write home about either.
Poor Auggie.
I shouldn’t say this without knocking about four different kinds of wood first, but lunch has been in his tummy now for about an hour and a half. This has been the crucial time over the past 24 hours, as everything he’s eaten in that time has come back to meet Mr. Hardwood Floor within two hours.
I should flag this entry, in case I ever get a crazy whim to put in wall-to-wall carpeting or a crazy-expensive rug. Cleaning partially-digested Pasta Bake off of the hardwood is disgusting enough, but trying to lift those teeny noodle pieces out of carpeting? I shudder to think.
Everyone keeps telling me that I shouldn’t give him any solid food, but the poor little guy was begging me for something to eat at lunchtime. The chicken broth just wasn’t doing it for him. So I gave him a few noodles from the soup, which he scarfed with glee. Considering that that is one of the only things he has done with glee today, it will be worth it if I have to clean them out of his crib here in a little while.
Poor little guy.
He even feels lighter.