Reni has chosen three new favorites: his Brobee (a green monster from the Nickelodeon show "Yo Gabba Gabba); his monkey (he pronounces it "mon-key" as if the first syllable were Jamaican, as in, 'hey, mon!') and a shoe. Yes, a size five Vans with the aforementioned Brobee painted on its bright green exterior. As in, an actual shoe that he insists on wearing everywhere, and just the past few days used to traipse through oil stains, mud, dog hair, the playground at the mall, the playground near our house, and the piles of rocks in the old dog run on the side of our house that probably still contain little bits of microcosmic dog shit on them.
The OCD in me is screeching OMG GET THAT THING OUT OF HIS BED but he insisted on cradling his "brobee shoe!" and while he still took the requisite hour to settle down and go to sleep (with me, cramped legs and twisted back into some true-yoginis-would-be-horrified-pose as I cuddle him in his crib-sized race car bed), he did seem to calm down with the shoe by his side.
I recall Anika having a snuggle fest with sippy cups when she was about this age, so perhaps it just comes with the territory? (She is now sharing her bed with a stuffed Minnie, Daisy, baby princess Aurora, Princess Rapunzel and Princess Merida, in case you were wondering, along with the occasional sleep-over by Fancy Nancy or Baby Sister dolls). She does keep a sippy cup squarely and securely situated behind one of her pillows, though, so I guess she hasn't completely broken the bond.
At any rate, one of those things to look back on and giggle about. Especially since Reni already has quite the shoe fetish. (With a daddy and mama who between them probably own enough shoes to start an Aldo-Ferragamo-Tom's store of their own, who can be surprised at this?)
Last Sunday night, we also had a bit of a dehydration scare with Reni. He started throwing up on Saturday, and the fluids just flew out of his body every-which-way for the next 24 hours - poor thing couldn't have a sip of water without throwing up a heckuva lot more than that sip. Nurse Direct line said that if his eyes looked sunken and his mouth felt sticky instead of wet inside that we should take him to the ER. They forgot to mention that his face was absolutely green.
So he and I embarked on a four-hour excursion at the newest hospital in town (built just last year) where they gave us a room almost immediately, as he threw up twice and filled two diapers with fluid just between our check-in and our triage. They administered anti-nausea medication and we waited. And waited. And waited. He begged for water and milk and juice. He snuggled his Brobee and Monkey. We watched Despicable Me on the TV mounted on the wall. We waited some more. He drank a small container of Pedialyte. Then another. And kept begging for more. Then he had a full cup of water. When all of that stayed down, the dr. finally came to see him and said that he was looking ok - dehydrated but if he could keep drinking successfully, not bad enough to need an IV. We stayed another hour or so, then he konked out at 11 p.m. and I somehow was awake enough to drive us home. He slowly got better as the week progressed and I'm happy to report is now only irritable because he's getting his canine teeth, and those hurt like a mofo.
Here he is in the ER, with his stuffed entourage, looking a bit confused and holding that empty pedialyte bottle like he could rub it and make more juice appear:
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