Epilogue

As you may recall, I posted here about all our nasty ailments this month, casually remarking that fortune had smiled on Wyatt and me, and we had not gotten Byron's stomach flu.  Well, I spoke too soon.

At 12:46 a.m. on MLK day Wyatt got it.  Three days later: me.  Then Herman.  Then Becky . . .  Arlo  . . .  Darcy  . . .  Ryan . . . and possibly Darren.  Basically, we contaminated everyone we love within a half-mile radius.  It has been like a cruise ship "plague" around here (albeit minus the ship and activity director).  We are very sorry, everyone. 

Although recovered from this latest round of illness, Wyatt seems determined to pack as much physical discomfort into the month of January as possible and, accordingly, has set about growing himself four molars.  This is cranky work.  His gums are swollen and red and he has had a fever, off and on, for the past five days.  Aside from nursing, he won't eat anything but grapes, yogurt, and the occasional "o."  He has actually lost about a pound.  Poor little guy.

He's managed to get three teeth through the gum so far this month, one left to go. If the rate we're going through baby ibuprofen is any indicator, it should be here within hours.

He's quite miserable when his mouth hurts so much.  I suppose it could only be made worse by poking him with needles . . . Oh wait, we did that on Monday -- four immunizations in his cute little thighs at the 12-month check up.  Now I'm told he may get an "impressive" rash about a week out from the measles or chicken pox vaccines that he received.

All I can say is we've got six more days in January -- bring it on.

Neither colds nor stomach flu nor teething keeps Wyatt from doing his favorite thing -- unloading the dishwasher (and sometimes trying to load himself into it).