Nothing freaks me out more than seeing The Boy get sick.
I get home tonight and he's his usual cheery self.
For all of five minutes.
Then he tells me his stomach hurts and next thing you know there's stuff flying out of him like a scene from The Exorcist. Now imagine that scene every thirty minutes and you've encapsulated my night.
Fast forward four hours to the Hospital, were he's being very brave while people he doesn't know are poking and prodding at him. It takes them an hour and a half to tell me what I'd already figured out: Stomach flu. Clear fluids for twelve to eighteen hours. Lucky kid, eh?
Keep in mind I've been on the go since six this morning, add the exhaustion from coming off the adrenaline while dealing with the boy, and I feel like a bag of shit. And I work early, too.
This week just keeps getting better and better, wot?
At least I have some new tunes to keep me occupied, and I'm reading this book were there is this frog named Prince Charming. Go figure.
Thank God for pleasant distractions.