The Little Virus That Could

Hansel and Gretel have been knocked for a loop this time around.
Gretel's Puke O'Fest from the weekend has now moved South producing some extraordinary diaper deposits which cannot be contained.
I'm up to my eyeballs in bodily fluids.
And laundry.
AGAIN.
Gretel seems to be on the mend while Hansel's stomach has been reduced to a shriveled up raisin over the past 19 hours. Three sets of sheets and two wardrobe changes later my Son reminds me of Twiggy with his pale frame and freakishly ginormous eyes.




Mommy, my hands feel heavy! My legs hurt!
His poor muscles are so weak. His limbs shake and quiver from the loss of electrolytes.
Please take some more sips of this Pedialyte apple juice, Baby.
(Whatever you do don't tell him it's anything other than "juice" DAMMIT!)
Mommy, I'm thirsty.
His lips are red and pouty. His mouth is pasty.
Here, suck on some ice chips.

Please don't let this end in a trip to the E.R.