Diarrhea-palooza

Just when I started to fret that I had nothing to report from this week, IT happened. To properly tell the story, I have to rewind to Monday.

On Monday, I awakened with a lingering and worsening three-day sore throat accompanied by the grossest of gastrointestinal flu-like symptoms. At 2:30am. During the four-day vigil that followed, we took great pains to ensure that Zane would not contract the nastiness.

All was well until Wednesday when a call from daycare disturbed my drug-induced coma. Miss Bonnie called to let me know that Zane had "two nasty diapers" and that we should keep an eye on him at home. Awesome. When Zane got home his hiney exploded two more times, and we started 24-hours-of-Pedialyte. Double Awesome.

By Thursday, things were looking better for everyone: Mama was returning from the dead, and Zane was well enough to go to daycare (equipped with two Pedialyte bottles, bananas and rice cereal). Our fortunes continued to improve through Friday, when things seemed to be back to normal - in every sense. THAT'S when it happened.

PG and I were regrouping and chatting in the office after feeding Zane his supper. Zane was crawling around on the floor amusing himself with anything he could find. He was laughing, smiling, and...splashing his hands in a puddle of something wet. It took me a full minute to realize that Zane was not playing slip 'n slide in a pool of drool...he was frolicking in an explosion of, yep, you guessed it...

Horrified that our son had been crawling in a spot of his own mess, and clapping his hands together, and bringing them dangerously close to his face, we sprang into action. PG took the kid to the sink in the laundry room while I drew a bath and mopped the floor with disinfectant. Nothing to see here, DCF. He might have been playing in a mess, but at least it was his mess.