It started yesterday morning when my second youngest, who is rarely sick, said he felt “weird.” He then made a mad dash for the bathroom and spent the remainder of the day frequently visiting it.
Sick child notwithstanding, there are several tasks I simply must complete every Sunday or this family will not be ready for the coming week. You know the drill – buy groceries, do laundry, plan dinners, and bump all of the things on your to-do list that you didn’t get to this weekend to next weekend.
As I went about my day, I racked my brain, trying to remember what my son had eaten in the last 24 hours. Was it something I made that didn’t agree with him? Perhaps, but no one else seemed to be adversely affected by the pasta casserole I had made the night before. Not yet, anyway.
I took the precaution of scrubbing my hands every time I so much as looked at him.
When my boys were much younger and experienced similar symptoms, my husband would start them on the “Brat” diet – bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast. As such, I procured these items as well as some popsicles and a gallon of an electrolyte-boosting sports drink.
By late afternoon, he was huddled under a blanket, watching a video. By eight, he was in bed.
Given the number of times I heard the toilet flush during the night, I’m guessing his symptoms have not abated. He seems to be sleeping now, finally.
I, on the other hand, am exhausted, but I still have lunches to pack and kids to get out the door. It is, after all, Monday morning and my plate-spinning show must go on. I believe it’s time for me to start the “Cars” diet – caffeine-and-refined-sugar.
I’m pretty sure I have all the items I need.