The other shoe dropped

We knew this would happen sooner or later... at two and a half years of age, Nora puked. Yesterday morning Nora came in our room early like she always does asking to nurse, and we did the usual bait and switch of getting her to think about something else. I took her back into her room and got her settled back down into bed-- which was surprising based upon the hour, but it worked. Minutes later, we figured out why. Eyewww.

Yesterday was a long day. How easily we forget that a child who doesn't vomit cannot possibly be bucket trained yet! Fiona, the poor mite, was an old pro by age two and a half. Nora, while more febrile than Fiona tends to get, wasn't quite as incapacitated by illness, and we had to keep a close eye on her all the time to know where she was. If we couldn't see her, chances were good that she had her arm down a box of cereal somewhere-- so we had to go find her fast!!! As she'd receive her tiny, metered doses of purple Pedialyte, her pained face and pale, dry lips would tilt up to us to plaintively ask, "Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!"

When she was sick she was really sick, but she really did bounce back quickly. This morning when she woke up she had another peal of screams that woke us with a start. I ran in with the bucket just in case, but you know what she wanted? Her caterpillar comb. All that bizarre screaming at 6:00 a.m. for a caterpillar comb. Dazed, I retrieved it from the bathroom and handed it to her. No, she just wanted her hair combed, please. And she wanted her pajammies. Once I combed her hair and pointed out that she was already wearing pajammies, she rolled over and went back to sleep. Yup. She's back to normal now.