We're now on day four of Laurel's stomach virus. She got sick once yesterday and had diarrhea. Paul keeps reassuring me that the little bit of breast milk she is keeping down has a lot of nutrition and I shouldn't worry so much. But worry I do. She was already skinny, being in the 90th percentile for height and 25th for weight. After four days of not really eating or drinking, she's looking really thin. Today, she's managed to keep down about four ounces of rice and banana cereal and four ounces of water. She's nursing every chance she can, mostly for comfort. Seeing her walk around, point at objects and blurt out, "Da," gives me hope that she's feeling better.
Laurel is normally a little spitfire, running about terrorizing everyone in her path. I'm missing that trait in her right now. I know it will return in a few days. Meanwhile, I am reminiscing this particular little story about her:
A couple Sundays ago, I was putting together a nice breakfast for our family. Laurel had already eaten her oatmeal and was running from room to room playing with anything that caught her eye. Paul helped Ian get into his booster chair and put on his bib, while I was putting pancakes and bacon on the table. Ian started complaining that he was hungry, so I quickly placed a slice of bacon onto his tray.
Paul and I finished getting napkins and glasses of water while the kids were busy doing their own things. Next thing I know, Ian screamed out, "Aaaahhhh!"
I quickly walked over to my little guy and inquired, "What's wrong?"
"I want bacon," he yelled.
"Where's your bacon?" I asked as I searched his bib, in his chair, and on the floor around him. The bacon was no where to be seen. "Did you eat your bacon?"
"Nooooo!" he whimpered.
"Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh," cackled Laurel.
Paul and I both did a double take of our sweet daughter. She was toddling away, looking back at the three of us and laughing, all the while clutching Ian's slice of bacon.
Laurel's book recommendation:
One of the books that seems to comfort Laurel while she has been sick, is My Many Colored Days, by Dr. Seuss. It's the artwork that she finds so interesting. The paintings by Steven Johnson and Lou Fancher are simple and whimsical. Each page focuses on a color and its corresponding emotions. Today, Laurel feels brown: Some days, of course, feel sort of Brown. Then I feel slow and low, low down. Ian on the other hand, being with Grandma and Papa feels pink: But when my days are Happy Pink it's great to jump and just not think.
I found some activities to go along with the book: