After St Cass's most recent comment, it occurs to me that I should probably be clearer about whom I speak. Unless she was joking. Oh, shucks, she was joking and here I was being dense. Durn it, I HATE it when that happens. In any case, the most recent Ask the Matriarch column reminded me that when he starts to read sometime in the next two minutes, he's going to know I'm writing about him and might want some anonymity. After all, in this Super Secret (not) blog, I am anonymous, why shouldn't my child and husband enjoy the same? Look for goofy yet accurate noms du blog, coming soon.
In the meantime, thanks for your prayers. Elijah is feeling much better tonight. [Internal Editor's Note: STOP RIGHT NOW AND DONT READ ANY MORE UNLESS YOU ARE ENTERTAINED BY TMI ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE'S BODY FLUIDS.] It has really been a charming visit from all Four Illnesses of the Apocolypse. (What, you don't know Asthma, Vomit, Diarrhea and Fever? Lucky you.) By dinner time, his fever was gone, he'd stopped coughing and he was begging for chocolate pudding, which he had spectacularly puked just forty five minutes before.
We're pretty easy, but we're not total pushovers.
He had soda crackers and water.
But we're all much more relaxed around here and hoping that tonight we might get some sleep.
Eli-Might-Go-The-Hospital-This-Weekend Alert has been changed to: CODE YELLOW.
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