When a kid starts at daycare, one of the things you can most definitely expect to happen almost immediately is that they are going to get sick.  The extent to the illness varies but, inevitably, temperatures will rise and someone is going to get puked on.

As I have mentioned, my new baby Luke started daycare about 3 weeks ago.  He loves it, I’m still struggling with it- I don’t see that changing any time soon.

[Side note: I can make it all the way to my car now before I start to cry. And sometimes, I don’t cry until I get to work. Winning!]

Well, after the first week, Luke started sneezing more than usual and started sounding like a little pig when he slept.  That eventually turned into a drippy nose and runny eyes. He didn’t have a fever and he was acting just as happy as always so, no big deal.

Saturday rolls around, we go through our normal sleep routine of nursing before bed.  I swaddle him super tight, kiss him goodnight, and place him in the cosleeper.  Matt was down the hall putting Noah to bed and reading bedtime stories.

Luke started to shift a little bit but, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then, out of nowhere, a geyser of spit-up shoots into the air.  This giant spit-up fountain is spewing about 18 inches skyward and plummeting back down onto my sweet baby’s face and all over the bed.

A wave of shock and fear falls over me and all I can think to do is shout “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” over and over again as I try to clean spit-up out of Luke’s eyes and ears while also trying not to drown myself in this milky, smelly mess.

Seriously.  I have never seen this much spit-up ever.  There is no way he drank this much.  He had to have been storing this in some secret spit-up compartment for days in order to produce this much.  He didn’t even seem all that upset about it.  If anything, he had a look of pride in his eyes as I grabbed blankets and burp cloths and rags from everywhere I could think to grab them to clean this mess up. He looked almost as though he did it on purpose to make sure I was paying attention.

After what seemed like forever (probably only a minute or 2), Matt heard my panic and came running down the hall.  He, too, was astonished at the volume of spit-up. He also seemed to be more upset that I had just changed the sheets on our bed that morning and the other sheets were still dirty on the laundry room floor (oops!).