While that is probably the grossest title ever, it is the statement that describes life the last 12 hours.
On Monday night at 9:00 during my favorite, Dancing with the Stars, Nicholas ended up throwing up in bed. On pillows, pillowcases, sheets, and into the mattress. You get the picture. But yet he remained absolutely normal in activity, and just kept saying I puked.
Then he woke up Tuesday morning, fine as could be. Spent all day Tuesday and Wednesday fairly normal. Then midnight last night, another round of throw up, with the call of Mom, I puked. He has since managed an episode of projectile vomiting. Amazing how far pancakes can fly. But he keeps asking me for food.
I'm telling you, this boy would literally have to be dying, not to be hungry. In the meantime, he will be subsisting on oyster crackers, popsicles, jello, and pedialyte for the day. He luckily had a doctor's appointment scheduled tomorrow for his 3 year old checkup and flu shot. Maybe this is just an effort to get out of the flu shot. Could he be that smart??