Bug was wiped out after camp yesterday and I put him down for a nap. He didn't even argue about it. The boys next door came over to see if mine could play, and I decided that Pook needed some down time too, so I told them we'd meet them at the pool at about 3:30. When I went to wake Bug and it just wasn't to be. He was groggy and complaining of a tummy ache. Since he complains about his tummy all the time without seeming to really have a problem, I ignored him. But when he really didn't wake up and get rolling toward the pool, I sent Pook with the neighbors. Pretty soon I could tell this was a real stomach issue. He'd have wanted to swim if he could. And sure enough, he threw up just as Pook got home, CD pulled into the driveway and the timer rang for dinner.
I phoned my co-volunteer in the camp kitchen, where I've been all week, and warned her we wouldn't be in. I emailed the director and told her. I called a little known school mate of Pook's and arranged for help driving him home from his camp. I planned for a quiet day with a sick baby and actually was looking forward to a chance to relax at home. We've been running around crazy and are all tired.
As I really should have expected, he got whatever he needed to get out of his stomach out of his stomach, and he's feeling fine today. He has barricaded himself in a bear cave in our den, using every chair and pillow he can find. Of course, I'm the mama bear and I'm supposed to be there too. Under the table.
This isn't what I wanted. Not that I wanted him miserable, but the only time Bug holds still and allows himself to be snuggled is when he's sick. I did not keep him home so he could climb all over the tables, chair backs and sofas looking for "berries". He's gonna wear me out worse than camp!
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