Apparently, I'm a Little Slow on the Uptake.

Quinn is still sick.  We are home.  And I am starting to get a little crazy.  I have 8,000 things to do, but here I sit, watching my 200th episode of Dora in the past 24 hours.  I begged him to watch something else, but he was firm, "No, Mama.  Dorie."  So, big sigh, Dorie it is.

Around 3am, Quinn came in our room and joined us in bed.  He spooned me and I instantly knew that he had a (very) high fever.  102.6.  So, Chris took the dog out (bless him) while I gave Q some tylenol.  For a long time we had the color free medicine, but for some strange reason, we don't any more, and so he had bright red, cherry tylenol.  Quinn is the best medicine taker in the world.  He sucked it out of the cup and tries to lick the droplets that are left out with his tongue.  Love him.  So, Q sucked down the medicine and then laid back down.  Within 30 seconds, he threw it all up.  Projectile, explosive, red medicine throw up all over the bed.  Awesome.  Chris came back in with the dog right when I began changing the sheets.  And then we figured he needed more medicine since he no longer at the first one in him.  So Chris sat on the bathroom floor with him while he drank some juice, took the medicine and then sat upright for a little while.  Then we all snuggled back in bed.  And Q began coughing.  And then he threw up bright red medicine throw up all over the bed...again.  Big sigh.  So, we changed the sheets again, but gave up on trying to get him to take the medicine.  By now it was pushing 5am.

Chris and the girls left for school this morning and Q and I managed to sleep until 8am.  We got up, watched Dora, ate breakfast (I ate, he just kept thanking me for making his breakfast, but didn't eat anything), watched more Dora, and then I decided we should take a shower together.  He was kind of gross.  After the shower he was shivering cold, so I thought he should have some nakey time in the bed and we could snuggle under all the covers and warm up.  He thought it was a good idea too.  Ike also agreed.  So there we were, all three of us, snuggled under the covers.  Snug as bugs in rugs.  Happy.  Smiling.  And then Quinn threw back the covers and began shouting, "Pee pee!  Pee pee!"  So I jumped up with him, questioning, "Do you need to go pee pee?  Did you go pee pee?  Is there pee pee in Mama's bed?"  He answered no to all of the above.  And then I examined the bed.  No, he didn't pee.  He pooped.  In my bed.  Big sigh.