Ask not for whom the stomach rolls…

I will spare you descriptions of the sights, sounds, and smells of the last 72 hours. It began with Isaac vomiting late Saturday night. Our dinner selection that evening, unfortunately, had been spaghetti. Isaac hasn’t yet mastered the art of turning to the side of the bed to hurl. And he didn’t just hurl the one time that night. Suffice to say that our dog, who likes to sleep beneath the vent from our clothes dryer, has had a very warm and snuggly stretch of evenings.

But now the sickness is largely past, though Wife still has a lingering fever. I think this is because she kicked it into overdrive once I instituted a rule that whoever had the lowest fever had to take care of the kids. Within minutes her temperature was up a full degree. Now that I’ve invoked the “I have to go earn a living” trump card, I suspect she’ll ratchet the heat back down. Some nights sleeping beside her I’m certain her internal body temperature is a good 150 degrees Fahrenheit as it is. If she’d just tolerate some ventilation hook-ups, I’m pretty sure we could heat at least one floor of the house with her. But I suppose that would be undignified, not to mention uncomfortable.

As I dressed for work this morning, Isaiah toddled over to the coat closet and extracted his bright red hat with a tassle on top. Then he fetched his gloves. I think he wanted out of the vomitorium as much as I did. I bribed him to stay with a banana. Which I suppose in a way is why I had to leave, in order to earn more bananas. If only we could grow all the bananas we need…

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