From my phone conversation with Josh around 5:15pm yesterday, I was pretty sure I'd be home taking care of a sick kid today. She was crying for Mama nonstop and refusing all food and drink, and it was clear my husband was at the end of his rope. But from the moment they met me at the train station, Z was her happy-go-lucky regular self.
We got home and she decided she'd like some orange juice, which she sipped as we played Cariboo, her very first game. After playtime, she willingly undressed herself and hopped into the bath. She even let me give her a shampoo, so I was able to finally remove the lingering scent of barf from her hair.
We returned to our night-night routine, putting on clean jammies, brushing teeth, reading library books on the rocking chair and cuddling for a few minutes in the dark. When I brought her to her bed, she asked for song, which is also pretty typical. But in a new twist, I am no longer allowed to sing any familiar tunes. I have to make up a song based on her request. "Sing a song about Z and sippy cups," was last night's demand. So, to the tune of "Puff the Magic Dragon," I sang the tale of Z and her Magic Sippy Cup.
The girl slept all night and woke up with a plain old wet diaper, a healthy appetite and a very strong desire to go to Adriana's house (day care). I can't tell you how relieved I am to see her back to normal, and I've got my fingers crossed that she stays that way.
