And I don't mean Luci.
**NOTE: If you have a sensitive gag reflex, you may want to stop reading.**
Drew woke up this morning like he always does, banging on the baby gate in his doorway and calling for me. He was his usual self, and I asked him to shut off his machine (the humidifier) while I used the bathroom. Upon returning to his room, I sniffed out the all too familiar scent of vomit. At some point during the night, Drew got sick, and as I didn't know he'd done this, I have no idea how long the poor kid had to lay in it. Drew continued to act normal, talking to me as I cleaned up the mess, until I was about finished and he started crying. I called for Brad, who helped me calm him down enough to finally get him out of his yucky pajamas. While I went to the basement to throw the nastiness in the washer, Brad took Drew into bed with him. (Drew refused to take a bath or put clean jammies on. Luckily, he didn't roll his head in the mess so it remained on his clothes and not his body.) When I came back upstairs, this is how I found my boys.
Drew remained this way for much of the morning. After Brad went to work, Drew and I relocated to the couch, and 10 minutes into Sesame Street, he was asleep and ended up napping for about 50 minutes. He was so cuddly and clingy, which is not his usual demeaner. No fever, but he felt warm to the touch. Finally, after much coaxing, I was able to give him a sponge bath and put on some clean clothes (he remained in just his diaper for the majority of the morning). After another good nap this afternoon, he seemed to be doing better. Not much of an appetite, but in good spirits. Hopefully this was just a 12-hour bug, and tomorrow he'll be back to his old self.
On a much lighter note, we watched President Obama's speech to congress last night. Drew was laying with me on the couch, so I introduced him to our new president. From here on out, the president shall now be called "President Omama" in our house.