Kyra is finally on the mend as of yesterday. She's eating solid foods again - and keeping them down! - though I'm afraid she's developed a frightening addiction to Popsicles over the last couple of days.
Last night we had an event to attend, but it was Aidan's night for basketball, and he desperately wanted to go. So when a dear friend offered to take him, we happily accepted. At the appointed hour, he ran out the door to join her boys in the car, and while they headed to the gym, we went to our little party.
When we returned a couple of hours later, Aidan was lying on the couch, clutching his stomach and moaning. It turns out he'd been stricken with the stomach bug during basketball practice, leaving our poor saint of a friend to deal with the aftereffects. First he vomited in the gym, so she had to track down a bucket and mop to clean up the mess. As if that weren't bad enough, he vomited in her car on the way home. In her car. Is there a sorry-my-kid-threw-up-in-your-car Hallmark card? Because I need one, apparently.
Aidan was up every 30 minutes or so last night, vomiting. And, because God wanted to make it convenient for me, Ainsley got sick, too, around midnight. Twice the vomit, half the sleepless nights. Thanks, God.
Now 75% of my kids have gotten sick (did I do the math right, EconKate?), and since Bart and I have a big date planned for tomorrow night, I suppose my astute readers can guess what's going to happen to the other 25% within the next 24 hours.
My life. It's like I'm a walking advertisement for birth control.