Olivia is sick today. She's been throwing up anything we try to put in her little belly. I was the target of her gastric expulsions on three separate occasions. The poor thing threw up on the way to pick Shane up, and, of course, I'm already late because the heater guy was out today to fix a problem with our furnace, and his dispatcher didn't tell him I needed to leave by 11:30 to pick up Shane, so, I couldn't really pull over to even clean her off. She's so amazing though, because through it all she is still happy and smiling. This evening, I called the doctor's office just to make sure that we shouldn't bring her in and the nurse indicated that there is something is going around. Apparently, our next stop is Diarrhea-ville. Oh well, just as long as she's all right. I just went in to check on her asleep in her crib. We are always commenting on big she (and Shane) and getting but really, they're so little at this age, its a little scary how a days worth of GI problems can make them seem so frail and little again.
On the way to pick up Shane I listened to a message I had left for myself several days ago. "I doubt it" my voice on the phone told me. On the day that I created the memo, about two weeks ago, Shane and I were driving to school. I asked if Miss Molly would be there -- she had been away on vacation the week before we went on vacation. He said, "I doubt it." Just that he knew that phrase and how and when to use it seemed pretty smart.