Kintropy In Action

Our couch has seen its share of action.  This is the couch we fed Hannah on, back when all we had was a g-tube, gravity feeding, and the best wishes of her birth hospital.  This is the couch where Gabriel first heard, "In the bowl!  Throw up in the bowl!"  Yes, this couch has seen the business end of a steam cleaner more than once.

And, last night, I saved our couch's life one more time.

"Dad, I'm done.  I'm going to go back and sit on the couch."  Gabriel had nibbled at a peanut butter sandwich.  He, Hannah, and I had been out most of the day with Zadie at the Rose Festival Waterfront.  On the way there, he had felt a little warm, and I had given him some ibruprofin to treat what felt like a hint of a fever.  That was quite fresh in my mind.

"Gabriel, you barely touched your meal.  Have a seat."

He complied briefly.  Then stood.  Then burped.  Then, on the vinyl, easy-to-clean floor, embraced his illness.

Belatedly, I grabbed a plastic bowl.  "Throw up in the bowl if you can," I asked gently.  Janette, called by The Signal, joined us.  Hannah continued to enjoy her nap in her bedroom.

Together, Janette and I became The Cleaners.  I mopped with paper towels and soap.  Janette paraded Gabriel to the shower.  She and I coordinated on the now Tylenol dose (5 hours after the ibruprofin).  It was a model of medical and parenting efficiency.

After Gabriel exited the shower, he claimed the now-covered-in-sheets couch as home base.  The tv became Spiderman cartoon central, and Hannah joined us to play on the floor nearby.  Janette moved a side table next to Gabriel, and we stacked it with a tall container of water and stack of crackers.  Gabriel sopped up the attention, and relaxed into I'm-sick-and-need-major-assistance posture.

I, preparing for a later nursing shift, headed to bed, confident that all was well-in-hand.

-- Dad

Post ibruprofin picture from the Waterfront: