Thanks to a series of episodes that necessitates its own post on the other blog, this has not been a great week at, or more specifically for, our house. And just when we thought we had gotten to, while not the worst it could get, the worst it was likely to get without a true tragedy befalling us, we got this: the rotavirus. Oliver came home seemingly fine, then had a very weird diaper before bedtime, and now, two hours later, has been bathed in whole or in part twice and been through two sets of bed linens. He is now resting, hopefully comfortably, one some plastic gymnastics mats. I'm sitting upstairs in the nook working on a paper, so I've heard both upchucks from the other side of the door. I can hear him in there now with his strange, short breaths, almost a little whimper. At almost 37 weeks pregnant, I'm really hoping not to catch this things, especially since I need a few more hours to get my final paper done and turned in!
Wash, wash.
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