The day dawned somewhat grey and hazy. It's that time of year ... when it hasn't rained quite often enough for clear blue skies and breezy mornings with puffy white clouds. Still, it was warm and pleasant enough, particularly from the loveseat in my air-conditioned living room. The third day of summer vacation was rife with possibilities!
But first, the morning routine. Things progressed smoothly enough. After getting dressed and having breakfast, the kids each have to complete a page in their Summer Bridge workbook*, read for half an hour**, practice their piano lessons, clean up their rooms, and complete a chore of my choosing; tasks they may complete in any order. Emily was well into checking the third or fourth item off her list while Matthew was still in his PJs. At least he'd finished his Raisin Bran and had cleared his place at the table.
As for me, I was running through my morning apps routine. Email: check. Words with Friends: check. LivingSocial and Groupon: check. Time to move to the PC to print out some interesting coupons and quickly surf through to my favorite sites. I finished catching up with martinimade (hi, Adrienne!) and pointed my browser over to see if there were any new pictures of my nephew and niece (hi, Nate and Rachel!). Then Matthew came into the computer room.
My Mom radar went off immediately. Quick! Run the child diagnostic. Cheerfulness: absent. Complexion: bloodless. Worry-lines: prominent. Ruh-roh!
Then he spoke, "Mom, I don't feel so good."
Mom, "What kind of not good?"
He, "Like I think I'm gonna throw up."
Mom, "Like maybe sometime later throw up, or like right now gonna throw up?"
He made it to the bathroom, thank God. When he was done, he kept apologizing yet was proud of not having ruined the carpeting. I gave him the hugs he deserved both in comfort and appreciation.
So, BRAT diet for him (even though Wikipedia tells me it's no longer necessarily recommended). And couch-potato TV-day for all of us.
The good news is that he's pinked up, had no additional bouts of sickness, and is starting to regain a touch of appetite.
Maybe tomorrow we'll make it off the couch.
* Sorry, kids, but you're the children of educators.