Three days at Comic Con. Wonderful, crazy, hectic, tiring days. I get home Saturday night at 8pm, with hopes of spending the rest of the evening with WonderWife™, who I missed while mingling with my fellow nerds in San Diego. But this was not to be. Sprout had been sick earlier in the day with a stomach flu and the Bean had been giving her hints that he was next.
I barely had time to unpack and settle into bed to spin my geeky tales of the past few days to an indifferent WW™ when a cry came out from the Bean's room. I'll spare you the details, but know that his bed needed to be stripped and changed.
Thus begun a night where neither WW™ or I got much sleep. After a few more incidents, the Bean refused to go back to his bedroom and only wanted to sleep on the floor of the den, refusing even a pillow or a blanket. It was much too late and he was much too sick to fight with him. Lying there, sleeping fitfully, he looked like a puppy. I "slept" on the couch next to him, which was only big enough to hold two thirds of my body. Neither of us logged in many hours in dreamland that night.
By the time dawn broke, WonderWife™ informed me that she too had succumbed to the dreaded stomach flu. The day's plans were scrapped so she could sleep. I tried very hard to keep two recovering kids happy and alive while not falling asleep myself.
So there will be no new post today. I'm tired.