Life in a petri dish

The nephew came home from school yesterday vomiting. There's a strain of Norovirus going around down here something fierce, so I just knew that we'd all have it by this weekend, and jokingly suggested that we stock up on toilet paper quickly.

Since then I've been Lysol-ing the hell out of every surface. Lets face it-- it sucks to see a kid sick, but it sucks even worse to share his germs AND watch him feel sick, and I have a little one around that probably wouldn't be as discreet about his bodily functions, should he become infected.

J spent the day yesterday being comparatively lazy. Not lethargic by any means, but just not his usual rambunctious self. He played a whole lot of computer games and stayed wrapped in his snuggi. Nothing I considered odd or indicative of impending illness. I mean, look at him. Does that look like a sick kid face?


(Yes, my desk is THAT messy, and yes, that is a giant RV in my yard, thank you very much.)

But 3 a.m. told a different story.

Wheezy, croupy cough, unable to breath. It's the first time we've had to break out the nebulizer in years, but man am I glad we had it! The last time he had croup we nearly had to take him to the emergency room. After about an hour of wheezing he was able to fall back asleep, but not until spiking a fever.

Yup. My kid's got the crud. It'll only be a matter of time before we're all hacking and feeling like crap.

I'm staying home with him today. He seems to be a bit better, and after an early morning trip to Walgreens for Motrin (because Tylenol is a joke) and popsicles, he's actually upright and hanging out with me. Technically, I suppose I should have taken him to Abuela's house and gone to work, but why when I have a perfect excuse to stay home and knit and snuggle?