Poor Baby!

Baby Z.'s been sick since about last Thursday. There's really nothing more pitiful than a sick toddler. She's just totally out of sorts and lethargic, spending long periods of time stretched out on the sofa like a teenager, requesting her favorite TV shows (which we're providing, since they make her happy). She's also not drinking much and eating less, which was of some concern during our hot weekend. But she seems to be recovering, albeit slowly. I look forward to our regular routine, though I must admit, even a little touch of the summer flu couldn't suppress her silliness instinct.

Speaking of instinct, and I suppose silliness as well, Baby Z. has thrown up a few times during this illness. The first time was all over me, but I quickly learned my lesson. After she tosses her cookies ... wait. For what? For the second and third waves of vomit. So the next time she puked, I was ready, and managed to catch most of it in a bib. And Alma? She hasn't picked up on the pattern yet and still swoops in to console Z. (which is natural!) after the first upchuck only to be coated in more vomit seconds later. Me, I wait for it to be done before I do the hugging. And then I do a big load of smelly laundry.