Friday, January 19, 2007

By the numbers

Vomiting children in this house: One.
Times she has hurled: Seven last night, one this morning, one this evening.
Times she made it to the bathroom in time: All but one.
Spots I cleaned off the stair and hall carpets: Lost count at eight.
Does orange soda stain when thrown up? Horribly.

Earlier today, I had go to the grocery store for the holy trinity of stomach flu -- Sprite, saltines and popsicles -- and since there was no one to watch G at home, she had to come with me. Shopping with a child who has thrown up recently is like carrying around concealed plastic explosives; you keep wondering when your charge might go off and wishing you could warn people to keep their distance. In every aisle, I scanned my surroundings with a nervous eye, gauging how far we were from an exit and where we might be able to go in a sudden puke emergency. We made it out without incident, but not before G got (understandably) tired of me asking her "Are you okay? Are you sure? Does your stomach hurt? Not even a little bit?"

I honestly don't know what's wrong with the poor kid. We had Chinese takeout for dinner last night, and I suspected that, but a friend told me that she'd got sick too soon after eating for it to be food poisoning. On the other hand, she hasn't got a fever, so it doesn't really seem like a virus. Where is that maternal Spidey-sense when I need it?

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