One night a few weeks ago Evan's excuse to wake me up was "I feel like throwing up". I had heard enough excuses, so I said "throw up in one corner of your bed and go back to sleep", to which he replied "Oh Daddy - I am feeling much better now".
Yesterday when we got in the car to go to Vivian's friend's home for dinner Evan complained that his "breath was yucky". We asked him to drink a sip of water and carried on. When we got there he was uncharacteristically lethargic and grumpy. I took him to the bathroom and he had a good poop but he still complained. I told him to try a slice of apple. He did but continued to complain about his breath. I asked him to breathe in and out deeply and he seemed to have no trouble of any sort. I sniffed his breath cautiously - nothing wrong. But he didn't eat any dinner. After dinner the kids had Klondike bars. At first Evan turned it down but then he changed his mind. So he hopped up on Jo's lap and took a nice bite of the ice cream.
And hurled all over his plate, the ice cream, and his clothes.
Our hosts (both of whom are doctors) seems unperturbed. Towels and fresh clothes appeared. The mess was cleaned up. We kept drinking our wine. Evan got changed right there at the dinner table. He immediately felt better. "Can I have my ice cream now?"
And that was it. No repeats. No more fuss. No other symptoms. In five minutes he was hungrily chowing down on a bowl of chocolate cheerios.
This morning I said "Evan - when you feel like that, you need to say that you feel like throwing up. Okay?"
"But I didn't feel like throwing up. My breath was yucky."
Yesterday when we got in the car to go to Vivian's friend's home for dinner Evan complained that his "breath was yucky". We asked him to drink a sip of water and carried on. When we got there he was uncharacteristically lethargic and grumpy. I took him to the bathroom and he had a good poop but he still complained. I told him to try a slice of apple. He did but continued to complain about his breath. I asked him to breathe in and out deeply and he seemed to have no trouble of any sort. I sniffed his breath cautiously - nothing wrong. But he didn't eat any dinner. After dinner the kids had Klondike bars. At first Evan turned it down but then he changed his mind. So he hopped up on Jo's lap and took a nice bite of the ice cream.
And hurled all over his plate, the ice cream, and his clothes.
Our hosts (both of whom are doctors) seems unperturbed. Towels and fresh clothes appeared. The mess was cleaned up. We kept drinking our wine. Evan got changed right there at the dinner table. He immediately felt better. "Can I have my ice cream now?"
And that was it. No repeats. No more fuss. No other symptoms. In five minutes he was hungrily chowing down on a bowl of chocolate cheerios.
This morning I said "Evan - when you feel like that, you need to say that you feel like throwing up. Okay?"
"But I didn't feel like throwing up. My breath was yucky."
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