It all started when I picked the boys up from my mother’s after work. The B-man was having issues (he tries to hold off on going #2 for as long as humanly possible) and was finding himself very uncomfortable, to say the least.

While we usually hang out for a while, with the B-man not feeling just right, the boys and I head home so that I can give the B-man a dose of his medicine. He takes Miralax with some juice each day to help him with his “issue.” Usually the medicine kicks in within in less than an hour and we are on our way. Well thirty minutes later he still had not gone, but he was feeling and acting visibly better.

With the day now escaping I decided that it would be best to pick up food so we run to the golden arches for dinner. As I am standing at the counter, holding the B-man, I look down to get my money out of my purse and I see his face go pale. Within seconds my mommy reflexes move into high gear and I am catching pink vomit as it erupts from his tiny little mouth. (I know… TMI)

Fortunately, and much the the cashiers delight, it is just a small amount of vomit and I am able to catch it in my hands. She, looking like she just escaped death, just stands there mezmorized. I snap her out of her state of awe, and she gets me a few napkins.

We ended up bringing the food home, but the B-man had no appetite. He just laid on the sofa with his snuggle pillow and my blanket. He even asked to go to bed…. he’s two. That just does not happen.

I can tell that he is coming down with something and it kills me. I can’t stand to see the boys when they are sick. It’s like you just want to be sick in their place.