I can't believe my little baby is six. That sounds so old to me. She had a misreable birthday, poor thing. The countdown for this day started shortly after Christmas. Her expecatations were high. Three nights before the big day she threw up 9 times in one night. Then twice more in the morning. She wasn't keeping any amount of fluids in her. I was thinking a 24-hour bug. Not so much. Next, maybe a 48-hour bug. Still, not. The doctor was threatening IV fluids. For sure she'll be better by her birthday, right? Nope. She woke up on her birthday morning trying to muster all the excitement she could and trying to convince herself that she was better. I was hopeful. An hour into it she was back on the couch with a high fever and body aches. It broke my heart. She desperately wanted to go to Build-a-Bear for her birthday. She rested up most of the day and then we took her. She loved it. Unfortunately, no cake and ice cream or special birthday dinner for her. She opened her presents, but was too weak to play with them.
Brian and I worked hard to convince her that spreading her birthday out to another day was a really great thing. We thought we would wait and do the rest of her birthday celebration the next day. It ended up being 5 days after her birthday until she was better enough to eat what she wanted. Her birthday dinner was the same thing as last year. She doesn't change her mind very easily. Mashed potatoes, chicken and corn on the cob.
