Gabe got sick at school last Friday. It was the first time he threw up in a long time. I was trying to remember, and I think it's been about three years since it last happened. So, of course, he doesn't remember it. He really keeps things in perspective though. As he lay on the bathroom floor, he whined, "I'm dying!"
"No, you're not dying," I said, "but I know it doesn't feel very good right now."
"No. I really am dying! I know it! You just don't want to tell me."
Hmm. Seriously. Drama, much? I am happy to report the 24-hour stomach flu bug that went away with only a bit of puke (though clearly much emotional pain, I'm sure) did not, in fact, kill him. He is alive and well.
On a happier note, Chi said to me for the first time, "Love you, Mom." Kind of caught my breath a bit. I was tucking him into bed. I've just gotten so used to him not saying a lot of things that it never occurred to me before then that I had never heard him say that. I knew he loved us, of course, but it makes a mom kind of weepy to hear it sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment