First, JT was running and he ran into a room that was dark where he proceeded to trip and fall right onto the edge of the bed. He ended up with a gash above his eye. I left work early to take him to the dr. My mother in law told me that he had a funny cough. On the way to the dr. he began to bark like a seal (cough) and I was pretty sure I knew what that meant.
Once inside the dr. they took his temp and of course it was 101. The dr. entered the room and asked JT if he could take a look at him to which my son gave the reply, "NOPE." Just as plain as it could be. He had the, "I'm not in the mood for you dude" attitude going on. The dr. was amused and, of course he looked JT over anyway. The gash above his eye could have used a few stitches, of course, but with or without stitches he would have a scar. By that point it was technically too late for the stitches to do their full job anyways. I could have had my sons face sewn up while he screamed and thrashed about like a mad man only to have him rip the stitches out when they were done because he was PO'd at us for doing them in the first place (yes, my son is like that) OR I could just let the butterfly bandages suffice. I chose the latter...of course.
Next, the dr. heard the seal bark and proceeded to tell me that little man has croup, of course. He sent us home with liquid steroids for him to take once he had a meal. We went home and had a meal, of course. I told him it was time to take some medicine to which he replied, "NOPE." I'm not a fan of his new word. I gave him the meds and he immediately proceeded to bulge his eyes and stick his fist down his throat to self induce vomit, of course. I grabbed his hand and said, "Don't you dare! Take a drink of juice quick!" He replied with a projectile vomit that could give the exorcist chick a run for her money. Have I mentioned my strong aversion to vomit and my immediate gag reflex???!!! It was all I could do to turn my head and not return the favor. I commenced to holler at Kate to grab some towels faster than the vomit that my son had just spewed all over me. JT wasn't a fan of the little bit of vomit that had landed on him so he began to move about to which I responded, "DON'T MOVE!" I covered it up hoping that the dog wouldn't try to eat it while we were in the bath tub. Don't act like your dog wouldn't jump at the chance to eat some regurgitated pizza and green beans. No judging.
Once were all cleaned up he was all chipper...until of course he woke up every 1.5 hours ALL NIGHT LONG because he was coughing due to the fact he had vomited up all of the meds the good dr. had sent us home with. That's okay because I got the last word in all of it when he got to return to the dr. today for more steroids...in shot form. Sorry dude. You made me do it.
In case you are wondering...
I didn't cry.
I didn't vomit.
I did call my husband to inform him of what HIS child had just done.
I did call my mom to tell her what my son, who is just like her son, had just done.
I did have a small glass of wine.
Not that it helped considering I woke up every 1.5 hours ALL NIGHT LONG.
Please feel sorry for us both.
Like REALLY sorry.
No, REALLY.
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