Yakkity-Yak! (Don't talk back!)

THIS POST NOT FOR THE WEAK OF STOMACH...

When Nathan gets sick, there's no wondering. He gets whiny, fussy, and generally dramatic. He'll get so worked up over a sore throat that he'll cough until he makes himself yak (as in, vomit). He thrashes and cries in between heavings, and looks as if he's being tortured. But this post is not about Nathan. This is about Evan. The quiet one. Evan fussed a little bit yesterday evening during supper, which I interpreted as his wanting down. He hadn't eaten much, but that was par for the course of the day. I unstrapped him from his chair and, instead of setting him down on the floor, sat him on my lap. I had only begun to eat my own meal, and I asked Evan if he was hungry. He looked at me with sad eyes, and then blew chunks all over me! There I sat, fork in hand, covered in the remnants of Evan's munchings from the day. I looked at him in stunned silence. He looked at me quietly with the same expression as if to say, "What the...?" Nathan asked why Evan did that. "Just stay seated and finish your supper," I replied. I asked Evan if he was done. He assessed the mess all over Daddy, looked at me sadly, and spewed again. "HOW MUCH COULD THERE POSSIBLY BE IN THERE?" I wondered. Nathan continued to eat and question, "Why does Evan keep throwing up, Daddy?" "Umm... I think his tummy is sick." Oh, it was sick alright. After the third and final wretching, we stripped and headed for the tub. While I was bathing him, I heard Laura coming in from work. Thankfully, Nathan was still there to warn her to watch her step. "Watch out, Mommy! Evan threw up everywhere!" he warned, still finishing his meal. We had a repeat episode about 2:30 AM, when my littlest man (who was sleeping on top of my chest) woke up, coughed a couple of times, then covered me again with pre-intestinal backwash. I was starting to worry about chemical burns! As I made our way in the dark to the tub, I called out for Laura to help. The truth is, I made more noise than Evan over the whole night. And I wasn't even sick! He just did his thing, then quietly waited for us to clean him up. He did not cry. He did not fuss. He did not ask why. If he hadn't actually thrown up, we'd have never known he was sick. Laura says he's like her, and Nathan is like me! I don't think I'm dramatic, but I guess she's entitled to her opinion. By the way, why is it always after you have a kid get sick that you find out "there's a stomach virus going around"? They should give you a note as you drop your kid at the nursery, attached to a barf bag and encourage you to grab some Pedialyte on the way home, just in case! (Hey, there's a marketing idea!)