We'd really been lucking out for too long. And last week when sister Carrie asked about Calla's vomiting experiences, I really should have knocked on wood, thrown salt over my shoulder and rubbed a rabbit's foot before I said so confidently that Calla's never really had a stomach virus.
Aah, well, see that was last week. 11:15 last night our world changed, poor little thing. No need for details, you've been there. Such a mess. And then 30 minutes later, freshly out of the bath, cleaned up, rocking on Mom's lap... all over me. We all slept finally from about 3 until 6 this morning.... Calla still moaned a little until the clock hit 7:30 and then something clicked and she started to say/sign "Milk?" "Eat?" "Milk?" And she's been a toast/rice/applesauce eating machine ever since. Still has a little fever, and took a lovely 3 hour nap and fell asleep easily tonight. She's on the mend; all's right with the world.
All of this is to say... we were due. But it didn't help that I taunted fate. I'll think twice next time before dismissing another common childhood illness/injury so easily. Things they don't teach you in that two-hour parenting class we took.
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