After a bout with the stomach flu this weekend, Brian grew accustomed to meals ending with a "pop-a-sicle" so first thing this morning, our door swings open and we hear "I am sick and need to eat a pop-a-sicle right away! Get up Daddy! Daddy? CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" (I'm so glad the door is on Steve's side of the bed!) Rest assured that Brian just had a touch of the flu and only vomited once (on Steve, so that evens things up a bit as far as who has been barfed on more). He was fine by evening yesterday and slept great last night, but of course thought himself sick enough for one last pediasure popsicle after breakfast!
Why hold your own "pop-a-sicle" when Daddy can hold it for you, while you lounge with your arms behind your head, watching cartoons? These people I live with do whatever I tell them to!
No comments:
Post a Comment