Oh, the small children! So, you're all lucky I didn't take pictures today, because even though I saw adorable children today, they were all sick. A sick 6 month old, a sick 2 year old, a sickish 3 year old and a sick, cranky, whiny 4 year old.
The sick 6 month old (Kate, of Jake and Teresa fame) was by far the most pleasant. In fact, when Jake took her back from me after 1.5-2 hoursish of holding her, Teresa pointed out that she had been breathing easier with me. Baby whisperer away! The sickish 3 year old was only upset that we wouldn't watch Avatar (yes, Avatar is her favorite movie. Rather than frightening her, the freaky animals endear her to the film). That part wasn't so bad, other than a good spit-up and snot.
The sick, cranky, whiny 4 year old (Olivia) was just wiped. She refused even to sit up strait for most of the day, insisting she was tired and her bum hurt (diarrhea, thank goodness she's potty-trained). I gave her a warm bath to help calm her down, and she'd relax up until she went to the bathroom again. Lovely.
The sick 2 year old (Dante) wasn't so bad most of the day. He was just pleased as punch, drank his milk, ate his chicken pot pie, and absolutely loved when I made him some birdies (tweet! tweet!!) out of play-doh. Then at almost the very end of the day, all the cleaning was pretty much done, they were doing well, no one complained, Olivia had to go to the bathroom again and insisted on comfort, which I was happy to give. So I sat on the bathroom floor trying to calm her down when Dante struts in and realizes he's blocked from the toilet as his sister is sitting on it. He immediately turns to me, distressed, saying, "Fro up! Fro up!" It wasn't however until he pointed at his mouth and started convulsing just a little that I realized he was telling me he needed to throw up. I caught on with just enough time to back him away from me by an extra foot or so and pulled my arm away, barely missing his almost projectile vomit. It unfortunately splashed onto one of my new Old Navy shirts, but that was the least of my concerns. Once he emptied out what had to have been every liquid in his little body onto the floor next to me, I took of his puked-on clothes, cleaned off his puked-on feet and hands in the sink, and deposited him on the couch with water to drink. Then I had to relieve Olivia from her seat on the toilet, because she couldn't get out without help or stepping in puke. Then I almost puked from their combined bodily stenches trying to get the mess off the floor. While it was an adventure, it's not one I desire to repeat in the very near future.
So, most eventful time of the day did not merit photo documentation. I'm afraid if I even looked at it again I'd retch for real.