For those of you that know me, you know how much I love my Ian. He can be a handful sometimes, but all in all, he's a pretty good boy. Some times he acts so big and so grown up. Other times....he acts like a baby younger than Drew. I guess that's to be expected.
He had a rough evening. He was on the "thinking chair" many times this evening. He just doesn't get the fact that he's bigger than Drew. He thinks he can sit on him and it's fine. Nope...not fine in my house. So, he goes to the thinking chair. Then he decides to hit or throw something....right back to the thinking chair.
It was nearing bedtime this evening. Drew was already in his pajamas and ready for his bottle. Drew is used to me giving him his bottle and rocking him for a little while. Then we say "it's time to go nite-nite"...he'll shake his head no...but we take him to his crib anyway. Give him a kiss and say good night. That's it. He's down. But....he's used to that little routine. Tonight, Ian was insisting on sitting on my lap where Drew usually sits for his bottle. I tried to explain to him that as soon as Drew was in his crib he could sit on my lap all by himself. Nothing worked so Charlie came over and picked him up and took him to the couch with him.
Ian, of course, was crying, crying, crying. Then he started coughing. Coughing....crying....guess what was next? Yep....throwing up. Poor little guy. He threw up on Charlie. Threw up on Charlie's shoes. Charlie got a towel for me and he threw up in it too. While we were waiting for Charlie to bring me another towel, poor little Ian said "Mommy, I'm sick. Why am I sick Mommy?....Mommy, I'm sick....I need to go to the hospital". I desperately tried not to laugh. I could hear Charlie chuckling in the hallway. I tried to reassure Ian that he was fine and he did not need to go to the hospital. After a bath he was fine.
My sweet Ian....never a dull moment.