So today, being Wednesday, I’m home alone with Hurricane Owen while Sweet Hubby goes straight from one job to the next.
Usually Owen and I love our quiet days alone together.
But Owen isn’t feeling too well.
None of us are. The flu has made the rounds of our house in the last two weeks. I also suspect that the “mini moo” he dug out of the recesses of the fridge, opened and ate with his fingers in the amount of time it took me to take a stepladder down to the dryer repair man, may have been a tad out of date.
Owen’s been kind of whiny and just not quite himself today. He napped very late, and didn’t get up until I woke him for supper, which he steadfastly ignored.
Then he threw up all over the hat rack. The one we keep in the kitchen to hold dish towels, aprons etc.
The hat rack that was standing on the floor I’d only just finished vacuuming, washing and waxing.
I got him cleaned up, and changed into nice clean jammies, still warm from the newly repaired dryer. Then I gave him a syringe of children’s Gravol, and told him that it would make his tummy feel better.
Edit: I always think of the best things AFTER the fact. I’ve decided NEXT time this happens I’ll just roll him in sparkles and send him to Gramma’s house)
For the uninitiated, children’s Gravol is sticky. Like, CORN SYRUP sticky.
Wait for it.
Quick as a flash, he lifted his shirt, stuck the end of the syringe in his belly button and squirted.
We managed to get the Gravol INTO him on the second try, after offering a little clarification as to HOW it would make his tummy feel better.
Now I’m going to bed.
That’s exactly the sort of logic that I can get behind.