Sick Boy

Sick toddlers are no fun. I'm sure it's even less fun if you're him.

Last night, at Troy's softball game, Matthew produced a diaper to rival all icky diapers. Ever. It coated his shirt, his shorts, and his legs. He ended up in just a hoodie which did have poop on it but significantly less than the rest of his clothes. He proceeded to sit in my lap and complain that his tummy hurt.

I thought we were in for a long night.

But then he slept for eleven hours straight, woke up, and puked.

Well, really, he woke up and barfed about a half hour later. This prompted Troy and I to rearrange our day so that we could take turns at home with him while still making most of our commitments. I am thankful for my husband's job. When I have Bible study he can come home for a couple hours to be with a sick kid.
Matthew laid around the house most of the day looking sad.

But even when he doesn't feel well, he holds the secrets of the world in his eyes.

If I was old and senile and blind I think I would still remember the vast chocolaty deliciousness of my son's eyes.

He's a little better now. He's resumed pointing his finger at me and bossing me around. Earlier in the day he didn't have energy even for that.