Last night I went into E's room to check on him before bed as always. As I opened the door I was greeted by the unmistakable stench of puke. Lots of puke. I turned on the light and peered into his crib, and there he was, asleep, covered in vomit from head to toe. It was all over the crib sheet, all over him, caked to his mouth and chin and hair. He slept on as I grabbed TJ and we gathered together towels and a game plan. We woke him up, stripped him, and put him in the bath. He was super smiley, totally unfazed, and ready to play.
I can't remember if I've mentioned that our co-op has been felled by an evil stomach virus. Babies and mamas started dropping like flies last Friday, followed by dads. I thought we'd escaped it, but perhaps we haven't. Oddly, E didn't throw up again last night and was fine today until just before nap when he puked a little, and woke up a bit later clearly feeling puny. After rocking him and letting him sleep on me a long while, I was able to put him down again, and there he remains.
If only I'd realized he'd puked last night, but he's been coughing lately, so I thought he was just coughing. The thought did enter my mind, but when he didn't cry, I dismissed it. Poor guy.