Little boy was sick last night. He fussed and whined all day long. I was so sick of him and felt more than ready to put him down come bedtime. Paul and I assumed he was teething but at 1 am Vince confirmed that we were dead wrong.
He woke us up with his sad little cry. Paul went in the give him some Tylenol because, after all, he's just teething right? A concerned sounding husband declares he is in need of help. Confused, I hop out of bed and join my boys only to find that Vince is covered in vomit. The whining, refusal to eat, and grumpiness all made sense now.
Paul whisked Vince off to the tub while I changed the sheets, scrubbed down the mattress, cleaned the paci, rinsed his clothes and wiped down Bear Bear. Suffice it to say, I was extremely grateful that Vince didn't get sick while Paul was away on a business trip. Yikes!
Little Man is back to his chipper self today, babbling, squealing, laughing and mostly eating well. He's still a little bit off, but we're praying that the worst of it is over.