He wakes up shortly afterwards and calls for me. He says he wants me to sit with him but I am not to talk or ask him questions. He lies there, cheeks flushed, staring into space and not saying anything.
This is bad, the not talking thing. This kid is constantly talking; to himself. He has an unending narrative about elevator videos going on in his head, and he spends pretty much every waking moment whispering this narrative to himself. If he's not talking.... something is wrong.
Crap.
I sit there for a while waiting to see what's going to happen, when suddenly he looks distressed and asks me to bring him upstairs to the bedroom. This is a bad sign, I know my kid and I what's coming when he says this. I say "are you going to throw up?" and he nods. I say "Okay, let me get you a bowl-" and before I could even take another breath, out comes a days worth of cheetos and chicken tenders and ketchup. I yell to the hubs to bring a bowl but by the time he gets downstairs, it's just too late. The chair is covered.... and all the blankets.... oh, ew.
Now I'm worried, though, because this kid isn't a barfer, but when he does get the stomach bug, it can be really bad. We've been to the ER with him twice because he's already so skinny and has no reserves so when he barfs a lot he gets really dehydrated and ends up needing IV fluids. So, I'm concerned at how this is going to go.
I move him to the couch and rush around doing some cleaning, and when I come back to check on him, he's sitting there with his little devilish grin that he gets when he's thinking about elevator videos; and he's whispering to himself.
Ahhhhhh. He's stimming again, he's going to be okay! Sometimes I guess all it takes is one giant upchuck to clear out the system. I'm so glad my kid has that built in wellness detector; even if he can't necessarily tell me that he's feeling better, I can still totally tell, and as I sit here next to him on the couch, I can hear him whispering "this one looks like a Dover."
Much better.
