Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Much better now.

When Myfarmer gifted us with a loft bed for Boy, I wondered to myself what the mess would be like if he puked up there. I had also wondered, when I got pregnant for the Bug, what it would be like when a family of five got the stomach flu, especially if Simon and I got sick at the same time.

Poor Boy was feeling sort of icky, but I thought he had a cold, so I gave him a Benadryl and we all went to bed. Benadryl puts him out in a serious way though, and even when he started barfing he slept through it. Of course, this meant he was puking in his loft. The result was spectacular. I couldn't help but giggle a little when I got my first look at him.

The Bean got it first and gave it to us all, but she really wasn't very sick. The Bug was sick all night long, but never cried. In fact, she slept in her puke for half the night because I didn't figure out what was going on until 3:30 in the morning. Simon, Boy and I all came down with it on the same night, meaning the next day there was no one in shape to take care of the two perfectly happy girls. I opened their closet door (where I store the toys that are out of rotation) and lay down in the Bean's bed. The novelty of the situation kept them busy all morning. Then there was nap, and after that the grown ups were feeling better enough to move downstairs. We survived, and it was awful, but it wasn't as bad as I had imagined.

In other news, the Boy's birthday is coming up. We're giving him presents along two lines- one is the usual Gift of Entertainment, i.e. books, comics, movies, and the other is Gifts that You Give Grownups, because he's never gotten these before and he actually appreciates them. So Simon and I were looking at pens, and we couldn't decide if he'd like a cheery orange one, or a bad ass orange-gray-black one (can't tell which one I like, huh?), and finally I brought the Boy down for a hypothetical. We asked him if he'd rather have a cheery orange coat, or a orange/gray/black coat. O/G/B. But Simon says, no, that's not the same, so I say, what about shoes? And the Boy waffles. So I say what about a bike, and he says Orange, definitely, so then I'm like, what if we painted this wall ... and then Simon comes out and says, "That that's not like a pen at all" and I'm all like, "Shit!". At which point we just show him the pens, and he picked orange. Sadly, I have always held the policy that if you figure out what you're getting before the gift giving time it goes back to the store, which means that Simon blew it and now we have to figure out something else. Sigh. To top it off, Simon is all proud that he picked the right color.

The Boy was looking through a Oriental Trading Company catalog, and he started figuring out how much he could make at school selling the candy. At which point he decided he wanted to go into business. He's got all sorts of schemes worked up in his little brain. I'm really hoping he'll have a go at some sort of money making effort, although canday at school is right out. He's already learned a lot about basic business principles just by thinking things through- for example, it takes money to make money, so how could he go about getting the initial investment? This right here is how learning happens. It's exciting to watch.

Alright. Gotta go, feeding time for the monkeys.

Wondering why February isn't National Puke Month,
ephelba

4 comments:

J. Thorp said...

Something about puking in the loft bed + painting a wall orange = too funny ....

Z said...

Oh blimey, the puke story takes me back. None of my kids had a loft bed, but my daughter had long hair and was a sound sleeper. Fortunately on that occasion the Sage woke first and was too polite to disturb me.

ephelba said...

Yeah, it's the sound sleeper part that gets you. At least they get to sleep through the part where they feel so awful.

Alwen said...

Oddly enough, when our son got his own room, he wanted it painted orange (it is - paint can be painted over), and we built him a loft bed!

Which, yes, he has been sick from, blech. Truly spectacular mess.

So now if he's feeling ill he sleeps on the sofa with a bucket.