I’m not saying that I forget my children when I close that door behind me and
skip walk to the car, but I am saying that for those couple hours their basic needs are not my responsibility, and usually I don’t have a clue about how their day went until I open the door again.
When you go through the door you enter the hallway that leads to the kitchen and family/play room. A quick glance at the bags stashed on the two massive freezers located instantly to the left tells me lots. If the girls are awake their twin stuffed doggies stick out of the top of our bag, if they’re napping the bag sits empty, and if a plastic bag sits on top of the whole thing I know something’s up.
“Is she OK? What happened?” I asked as soon as I saw the daycare provider. After last night I assumed the worst, but I was hoping that maybe one child needed a change of clothes for a less icky reason. The look on her face dashed that hope instantly.
“Oh! Oh man! Little L had a massive blowout at lunch. Awful. Just awful.” A blowout? A 17-month-old with a blowout? That’s unusual to say the least. A kid her age with an explosive diaper is a sign of just one thing — stomach bug. Especially when it comes on the heels of yesterday’s incident.
Now, if we’re lucky that was the worst of it. After all she’s had the Rotovirus vaccine, it’s supposed to protect her from this stuff. If we’re not so lucky, her sister gets it and we have a messy weekend. But there is good news here! As soon as everyone is in the clear I can start trying to substitute honey for ketchup again. I’ll win this fight yet! Yeah!
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