Wednesday night, Jude's second night in a big boy bed, he showed up in my room at 3am. I was like, "ok, here we go." and I brought him back to his room to nurse him and try to get him back to sleep. The room really stunk and all I could think was that he had a dirty diaper and since he could now get up and tell me, that's what was going on. But when I took his diaper off, it was just wet.
After he nursed, he begged to go in his crib. Shoot! We were failing at the big boy bed. I put him in there and grabbed the pillow off the toddler bed. It was soaking wet. At this point I turned the light on and saw where the smell was coming from. He had thrown up. But since the one and only other time he threw up he was only one, maybe one and a half, he didn't have a word for it and probably had no idea what was going on when it was happening.
When I got everything cleaned up with new sheets and a new pillow, he willingly went back to his "bo-boy bed" as he calls it. Well, maybe because in the mean time, he also threw up in the crib, so he made the connection that the bed had nothing to do with it?
Last night, Friday, we were reading Curious George books at bed time when he looked at me and said, "Judah cry." Of course I asked him, "Why did Judah cry?"
His response puzzled me: "Judah make mess." Well, we had just cleaned up, so I had no idea what he was talking about. "Where did Judah make a mess?" I asked.
"Judah spill. Judah spill mouth." (Well, actually he said "Judah pill mouff." but we'll not get into pronunciation now!)
Spill mouth? Ooooooooh! He was telling me about the night he threw up. Poor baby! If he was still talking about it three nights later, it really must have made an impression on him. He's destined to be like his mother, I'm afraid. I have a mortal fear of throwing up. And all the puking I did during pregnancy did nothing to "cure" that fear!