It all started like this. One Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago Jason and I miraculously both had the day off. We thought it would be a great idea to go to church like the good Christians we tell our parents that we are. All summer it's been a ridiculous juggle d/t work and travel schedules and thus far have only been able to consider the drive in service (which our church does offer...apprently catering to the new generation of technologically advanced but socially retarded). Since I already feel like I'm married to my minivan (yes, I drive a minivan...shocking I know), I really didn't want to take things to a spiritual level. So I thought it would be really cute to bring Tyson into our bedroom in the morning to wake his daddy up so we could get going. I set him up on our bed right next to Jason and he really was super cute...for about the 4 1/2 seconds it took for him to vomit all over our comforter. All day long I vigilantly watched for other signs of illness while simultaneously calculating how much purrell I would have to buy to fill the bathtub. Guess what? Other than one other incident, Tyson was completely fine. Not eating his normal lumberjack size portions but otherwise fit as a fiddle.
I thought things were looking up. Imagine my surprise the next afternoon when (despite my best antibacterial efforts) I was suddenly doubled over with abdominal pain. I spent the next 2 days developing a close, personal relationship with my red puke-bucket and the view from my toilet seat (if I was taller, I would be able to see into my neighbors garage and perhaps a little of their backyard...it's awkward). The hardest part was of course, trying to take care of Tyson and keep him out of mischief when I was carrying on such interesting and lengthy conversations with my bucket. The funny part was that Tyson thought it was just another version of his old time favorite game of peek-a-boo. He would come up to me and push my hair to the side and give me his "head tilt-Iamsodarncute" look. Seriously, this kid is something else. As long as he's being constantly watched and smiled at, he's happy. Is it to early to worry that he will grow up wanting to be a game show host?