This past week, the stomach bug we’d heard so much about (emails sent home from daycare, neighbors and friends who’d been felled…) arrived in our house. More precisely, in our bed. Kaspar was sleeping between us, as usual, one night when I woke up to a noise I didn’t recognize; it’s funny how our mom-instincts work even when, for all intents and purposes, we’re otherwise dead to the world. The noise was coming from his stomach, and as soon as I’d shaken Aaron awake to ask if he knew what it could be, Kaspar sat straight up and vomited… everywhere… and then whimpered and collapsed in my arms.
Of course, I didn’t even think, “Gross—puke,” until this cycle had repeated itself three times over the next half hour, as we scrambled to grab towels and trash cans to try to catch the follow-up rounds, with mixed success.