The scene opens on a mother resting on the living room couch. She is listening to father and son in the kitchen. The father is doing dishes, having placed the infant son in his high chair with an empty oatmeal tube to play with.
Mother hears the soft thud of the oatmeal tube again and again, as the baby enthusiastically pushes it off the highchair tray and onto the floor, gleefully leaning forward as he watches it fall and bounce.

Thud

Thud

Thud

The thudding stops.

“Young man,” says the father “there are only so many times I am going to pick that up for you. So, you’ve got to ask yourself… Do you feel lucky?”

The mother cracks up.

Otter has had a high fever (around 104) for the past two days. He has been to the pediatrician twice. Today, he and I spent six hours in the local ER. That is where we discovered my little man has the flu.

I am still recovering from having to lay down on top if his legs and torso while the nurse probes his baby chubby wrists and hands, ankles and feet for a vein. After three attempts,she got his line in his little foot, and 8 ounces of saline was coursing through that line into his system.

Six and a half hours later we are home, snuggled up with orders to lower the breastmilk intake and increase the pedialite. The only problem? He won’t drink the pedialite, and he wants the breastmilk.

I understand the instructions were intended to help his little tummy settle and limit or halt further vomiting, but I would rather he drink something, and get thrown up on, than have him drink nothing.

Well, he woke up, so I am off to bed. See you tomorrow. With a flu stricken baby, I will likely see no one but you, my darling blog friends, for quite some time.

can’t come to her blog right now. She is currently trapped under a screaming, crying, vomiting, feverish baby. Please leave a message after the tone, and she will get back to her regularly scheduled posting in the event the fevered baby ever sleeps.

Beep