Right (Rite) of Passage

We came home to a sick little bear tonight. I didn't even get a glance up from hubby's shoulder when I walked in the door, and he was a hot, feverish, limp noodle.

Really unsettling given he is usually pretty lively even when he's feeling his worst.

So we called the ped, repeatedly took his temp (102.4), and basically held vigil over him for an hour on the couch without much change. Even Stella was hovering, sneaking in kisses to try to help.

And then suddenly he sat up, look at me, and threw up every where.

All over himself, me, the couch, the phone. It was really pretty incredible.

And once the collective trauma was over for all of us, and Ben and I had stripped down to our skivies in the kitchen and washed off, things actually took a pretty quick turn for the better.

He appears to have his father's superhero ability to bounce back from sickness. Within an hour, he was wheeling toys around, laughing and eating a banana.

And somehow, the whole incident kind of felt like an official intiation into motherhood. You're not really a mom until you get thrown up on, right?

Let's hope he is back to normal when he wakes up tomorrow.